Pink Doesn't Suit You
by ilovemybishies87
Summary: .:REVAMPED:. Orihime blushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Szayel Aporro-san. I wasn’t expect--I mean, I thought you were Ulquiorra.” SzayelHimeUlqui.
1. Pink Doesn't Suit You

Orihime lay on her makeshift bed: a large white couch pushed against the left side of her room. An arm covered her eyes. She was in that unusual middle ground of consciousness everyone despises—not fully asleep but not fully awake. She groaned softly; she could tell that Ulquiorra would soon enter her room and announce it was time to eat breakfast.

Or more like threaten her to finish all her food this time, unless she wanted him to give her an IV or shove the food down her throat. But no matter how many times he'd threatened her, he never carried it out.

She pushed herself off the couch and stretched, yawning loudly. Her back was to the door when the handle started jiggling. The door opened with a creak, and a form entered the room.

"I thought you usually announced yourself before you entered, Ulqui—" she started, about to face him.

Then Orihime stopped. The person standing before her was most definitely _not_ Ulquiorra. Instead, he was a pink-haired bespectacled man she'd never met before, an amused grin plastered on his face.

"I'm sorry, Szayel Aporro-san. I wasn't expect—" She hesitated, embarrassed. "I mean, I thought you were Ulquiorra."

Szayel shook his head, pink strands brushing against his face. "That's quite all right, Orihime-san. May I inquire," he said, taking a few steps closer to her, "how it is you know who I am?"

"Well, Ulquiorra told me about the other Espada and their physical descriptions and things like that," she said, taking in his appearance. It'd been so long since she had really seen another being—except for Ulquiorra and Aizen, of course—that a new face was more than welcome.

"Oh?" he asked, his arms crossed over his chest. "The Cuarta Espada isn't known for being chit-chatty. How very peculiar."

"It was an exchange," she said blankly. "He said he would answer anything I had to ask. But in exchange, I would have to finish my meal."

Szayel nodded. "I see. Then his behavior makes sense. Anyway, we should be going." He headed towards the door but stopped, noticing Orihime stood planted to the spot.

"Szayel Aporro-san, I'm not supposed to leave the room," she said, wringing her hands together nervously. "If Ulquiorra found out—"

"No need for you to worry about that. Ulquiorra is out on a very important mission for Aizen-sama, so I've been temporarily assigned to watch you until he returns. However, I can't allow myself to get behind in my own duties. You'll need to come with me to my domain."

"R-Really?" Orihime asked, slightly hopeful. As nice as her room was, a golden cage was still a cage. Not to mention she was probably developing a bit of cabin fever. "Okay, then. I guess we should go."

They exited the room and walked down the halls, Orihime lagging behind. Szayel seemed to notice this because he slowed down a bit, and soon they were walking side-by-side. She blushed lightly and murmured an apology.

"No need to apologize, Orihime-san," he said, grinning widely. "So, what exactly did the Cuarta Espada have to say about his 'comrades'?"

Orihime was so used to walking in silence when she was with Ulquiorra, she literally jumped at the sound of his voice. Szayel chuckled when she tried to hide her blush. "About whom specifically, Szayel Aporro-san?"

"Me, hopefully," he said, humor lacing his voice. "And perhaps anyone else you feel is worth mentioning. And please, you don't need to be formal with me. Call me Szayel."

"Ulquiorra didn't really have much to say about you, Szayel-san," she said, still blushing furiously. "All he said was that you were the scientist of sorts in Las Noches, and that you had pink hair and glasses. He had some choice words for a couple other Espada, but they're not something I could repeat."

Szayel looked at her out the corner of his eye. "That's all he had to say about me? That's almost down right kind, coming from him." He paused. "Grimmjow and Nnoitra, right?"

"Huh?" she asked, pulling her gaze from their surroundings. She'd never been in this part of Las Noches before. Of course, the only places she'd been were Aizen's throne room and her own room.

"The other Espada that he had 'choice words' for," he explained. He walked up to the entrance of his domain, pushing the door open. "They were Grimmjow and Nnoitra."

Orihime nodded. "Yeah."

Szayel mirrored her movements, his head tilted slightly as he inspected her. No small detail escaped his attention. After all, meticulousness was in the nature of a scientist. He noted the way her long orange hair framed her face, held back with two light blue flower clips—where her powers originated from, he remembered Aizen telling him—and how the white and black uniform hugged her body in certain places and floated away in others. Her hands wrung together in a nervous fashion, her shoulders slumped over ever so slightly, as if there was a weight on her shoulders that was becoming increasingly heavier. But most notable was the amount of life—of light—radiating from her entire being.

How interesting.

Noticing she was starting to feel self-conscious under his gaze, Szayel turned and motioned for her to enter. "It's not much, but this is where I call home."

Orihime's eyes widened. Compared to her room, his domain was enormous—wide with high, almost cathedral-like ceilings. She couldn't helping feeling envious of the Octava Espada, to have this much space all to himself.

Szayel watched the emotions played out on her face. Ulquiorra was a lucky to bastard. Did he even realize what an amazing specimen he had in the palms of his hands? Inwardly, he scoffed. Probably not.

She turned to him, the hint of a smile on her face. "Do you also have a lab here, Szayel-san?"

"Of course." He pushed up his glasses with a finger. "What is a scientist without one?"

"So, are you one of those mad scientists, like in all those really old horror movies?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her. She held her hands close to her chest, awaiting his reply.

"Some would argue that," he said, chuckling as he moved closer. "And while I'd love to show you some of my research, I don't think Aizen-sama would be very displeased with me."

She deflated a bit. "Oh. Well, I guess it's for the best then."

They stood in the hall from a couple of moments, a neutral look on Orihime's face as she inspected his domain with a critical eye. The realization pleased him, though Szayel couldn't quite understand.

Then it hit him.

"You're an extremely inquisitive and observant individual, aren't you, Orihime-san?" he asked. He stood in front of her, hands on his hips. "Those are the signs of a good scientist."

Orihime blushed at his words, laughing nervously before saying, "T-Thank you, Szayel-san. You're too kind."

He shook his head. "Not at all. It's the truth! I think," he continued, placing an arm around her shoulder and walking deeper into the domain, "it would be a shame to let this blossoming scientist go to waste."

"Really?" She stiffened at his touch, but didn't move his arm. "Does that mean—?"

His hair covered his eyes, but his grin widened. "Yes. I have to let you see at least one experiment before you go."

They made their way deeper into his domain, a multitude of doors on either side of them. Orihime felt as if they'd go on forever, her anxiety and dread building with each step they took.

"Szayel-san?"

He spared her a look."Yes, Orihime-san?"

"You're…not going to show me anything too dangerous, are you?"

He stopped, turning to stare at her. Then after a beat, he continued walking her towards their destination.

"I see Ulquiorra felt it necessary to let you know the nature of my...experiments," he said, his voice level.

She glanced up at him. "Yes." She paused. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

A small smile made its way onto his lips. "No need to apologize. You shouldn't worry. I would never think of showing you anything _too _dangerous. There would be more than a few people who would be upset if anything were to happen to you."

"Upset?" she asked. "Like—?"

"Ah! We're here," Szayel said, unlocking the door and opening it.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, sure to remember every detail of this encounter. She felt warm to him, though this was hard to determine with his gloves on. But her cheeks were redder than before, which seemed to support his theory.

Orihime didn't know what to expect when she entered the room. A large part of her was worried she would find hundreds of Hollows in cages, like in the images she had seen of primates back in her world; or perhaps something being dissected on a pure-white table, still alive and thrashing about in pain and horror. Although what she saw wasn't nearly as bad as she'd expected, it still caused a chill to crawl up her spine.

"Szayel Aporro-sama! Szayel Aporro-sama! You came to visit us!" exclaimed two weird, sphere-like creatures, bounding towards them. She moved closer to Szayel, gripping the fabric of his sleeves as best she could. He smiled widely at the contact.

The two Arrancar stopped in front of them and looked up at the woman curiously.

"Szayel Aporro-sama?" Lumina asked. "Who is that woman?"

"You owe me! I told you Szayel Aporro-sama wasn't gay!" Verona cried out triumphantly, much to Lumina's frustration.

Szayel was about to punish his fraccion—he could always make more, anyway—when he soft giggling. Orihime looked both mortified and amused, a hand covering her mouth to keep her laughter from escaping.

"I'm sorry, Szayel-san!" she said, in-between laughs. "I didn't mean to!"

Now he had another thing he needed to record once he got the chance. Her laughter was very light and pleasant, like…

Szayel thought for a comparison, but came up blank.

He glared at the Lumina and Verona with a look that promised them hell later, then smiled sheepishly. "That's quite all right. My fraccion are rather...amusing, aren't they?" The fraccion in question looked at each other with worry.

"Yes, they are. So, you're the one who created them?" Orihime asked, watching the bizarre Arrancar as they bounced in place.

"Unfortunately," he said. He turned to them. "What are you two doing in here? You know that this area is restricted. Leave now, or else you'll regret stepping one foot in this room!"

As quickly as they had appeared, the other Arrancar were gone. Orihime blinked, confused, then turned to Szayel. "They weren't the experiments you wanted to show me?"

"No," he said, with a shake of his head.

He took her hand again and brought her to the center of the room, where a pedestal stood. On top of it was a pure white cube with a little speaker on the front—or at least, what Orihime assumed to be the front of the machine. Tools were randomly strewn about on the tables near the creation. She looked at Szayel, and after seeing his nod of approval, she moved her hands across the surface. It was cold and smooth.

"What is it?" she asked, turning back to him.

"This? Well, it's..." Szayel laughed, embarrassed. "I'm not entirely sure at the moment. It's the outer case for a robot, but I haven't decided what it should do."

Orihime smiled, a twinkle in her eyes. "Maybe you should make it an Ulquiorra translator. Really, sometimes it feels like he's speaking another language!"

"An Ulquiorra translator, huh? That's not a bad idea, actually." He grabbed a clipboard and started frantically writing down notes, ignoring Orihime's protests that she was only joking.

_Very intelligent_, he wrote, looking at the young woman out the corner of his eye, _and has an amusing sense of humor_.

Finishing up the last bit of notes, he placed the clipboard on the table and turned to her. "Shall we be going?" he asked, placing his hand on the small of her back. She nodded, and they walked in silence. The walk back felt much shorter, at least to Orihime; but she realized this was probably due to the lack of anxiety on her part.

"Thank you for showing me your creation, Szayel-san!" she said, smiling brightly. "It's been so long since I've seen something new. I think I was starting to go crazy."

Szayel smirked. "I know exactly how you feel." He removed his gloves and, reaching over, rubbed a strand of hair between his fingers. Smooth as silk, like he thought it would be.

Orihime felt warm, her body shaking. "Wha—What are you doing?"

"I wonder, Orihime..." His smirk widened as he pushed her against one of the walls. It didn't escape her that he'd dropped the formal title from her name. She pushed herself against the wall, her breathing shallow. "...if all of you is this silky smooth..."

His fingers grazed the skin of her cheeks, following the curve of her jaw. She gasped at the contact of skin on skin, eliciting a dark chuckle from Szayel. His thumb rubbed the apple of her cheeks as he leaned in.

"You truly are a one-of-a-kind specimen, Orihime," he whispered, his lips grazing her skin so lightly, she couldn't help gripping the front of his top to keep from gasping again.

"Szayel, what do you think you are doing?" demanded a cold voice.

The Octava Espada groaned. Ulquiorra just had to come back when he was getting to the interesting part. Turning around, he was greeted with the sight of a pissed-off Cuarta Espada. If looks could kill, Szayel was certain he would've been dead—many times over.

"You're back already?" he asked, pulling away from Orihime. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. "Obviously."

They glared at each other, their reiastu flaring; it was becoming too oppressive for Orihime.

"Ulquiorra? I was wondering if there was any way that I can have clothing with color?" she asked. The randomness of her question dissipated any tension there'd been between the two Espada.

Szayel understood what she was trying to do and decided to follow suit. "I agree with you, Orihime," he said, and Ulquiorra turned his gaze to him. "While there's nothing wrong with white and black, you could do with some clothing with color. I think pink would look very nice on you."

He looked her straight in the eyes; she'd apparently understood his implication, because her face had turned a very deep shade of red.

"I disagree." Ulquiorra came up to Orime and placed his hand on her back, pushing her away from the Octava Espada. She looked up at him curiously. "Pink doesn't suit you."

"Is that so?" Szayel asked, running his fingers through his hair. "And what color do you think would suit her best?"

Ulquiorra held his gaze with him before responding, "Green, obviously."

Then, in a flash, he and Orihime were gone, leaving Szayel to stare at the spot they'd been moments before. Sighing, he decided to get back to his experiments.

Inoue Orihime, huh? He brought his fingers to his smirking lips. Definitely required a more in-depth investigation.


	2. Honey and Vinegar

Szayel wandered around his domain aimlessly, desperate to get his mind off the unique "specimen" he'd had the pleasure of examining only a few hours before—but to no avail. He would flutter from experiment to experiment before moving onto something else. Restlessness was a foreign feeling for him, and after an hour of trying to keep himself occupied, he gave up altogether. He went to his resting chambers, some of the furniture covered in a light sheen of dust from disuse, and sat in one of the chairs. He released a shaky sigh.

"I despise being interrupted during my examinations, especially when I've only started getting to the good part," he muttered, his head resting in his hands. "I can't continue with anything else until I've finished what I've started."

Minutes passed as he sat, and then a thought hit him. He jumped up for his seat, walking quickly to the door and out of his domain.

It could work. Szayel's grin grew with each step he took towards his destination. It would work.

* * *

With his trademark fatherly grin in place, Aizen watched Ulquiorra relayed the details of his mission.

"Is that so?" Aizen asked, once the Espada had finished.

Ulquiorra nodded slightly. "Yes, Aizen-sama. If you require nothing else, I will be returning to the other duties you have assigned me."

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Ulquiorra. Szayel?" Aizen called out, looking past Ulquiorra to the other side of the room. "This is a pleasant surprise. You don't usually leave your domain unless there is a problem—or you want something."

Szayel smirked when he heard his name, then walked into the room. He bowed. "Forgive me, Aizen-sama. I should've been more discreet."

Aizen waved it off, watching the brief exchange of glares between the two Espada. He waited for Szayel to continue. "Well, Szayel Aporro? What is it you require?"

Szayel cleared his throat and said, "Well, Aizen-sama, I actually don't require anything."

"Is that so?" Aizen asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then why have you come?"

"I wanted to make you an offer, of sorts," Szayel said, earning a confused look—or, at least, what was the equivalent of a

confused look—from the Cuarta Espada. "It's come to my attention that you're sending Ulquiorra on missions more frequently."

"What's your point?" Ulquiorra demanded, his eyes narrowed.

"With you out on missions, this leaves our guest unattended," he said, and returned his gaze to Aizen. "The top three Espada—Stark, Halibel, and Barragan—are out more often than Ulquiorra, so that excludes them. Nnoitra would do more harm than good, Grimmjow would have no patience with her, and Yami, that fool, would probably pull her head off and that would be the end of it."

Aizen nodded, considering Szayel's words. "What about Zommari?" he asked, noticing the Septima Espada had not been mentioned.

"Yes, well," Szayel said, pushing up his glasses, "finding him is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Besides, Orihime has already become accustomed to my presence."

Ulquiorra glared at his choice of words; the Octava Espada to laugh inwardly.

After a moment of dreaded silence, Aizen spoke, "So, you want to be assigned to Ulquiorra's duty while he's away on missions. This is quite an unusual offer, Szayel. When Orihime was first brought to Las Noches, you wanted nothing to do with her. What brought about this change?"

There was a pause before Szayel answered, his smirk growing. "She's...interesting."

"I see," Aizen said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Very well. If this is what you want, then I accept your offer. No harm should come to her."

Szayel bowed again, more deeply this time. His barely-contained glee was growing exponentially. "Of course, Aizen-sama."

After a beat, Aizen shooed them away with a wave of his hand. The two Espada walked down the hall in silence before Ulquiorra turned to Szayel, glaring.

"I know what you are trying to do."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Cuarta Espada-san," Szayel said, stretching his arms out. "I only want to make sure that no harm comes to our precious Hime."

Ulquiorra shoved him against the wall, catching the Octava Espada off-guard. But Szayel didn't show his surprise, his face unnaturally neutral. "If she utters even a word that you've done something to her, I'll make sure you wish for death to come to you."

Szayel laughed. "Like a good little lap dog when its mistress is in distress. I never thought I'd see the day. Perhaps her powers aren't limited to just event rejection."

Ulquiorra slowly backed away, then continued towards Orihime's room. Szayel followed close behind him.

"Shouldn't you be returning to your own domain?" Ulquiorra asked pointedly.

"I thought I should give Orihime the good news," Szayel said, glancing at him out the corner of his eye. "It'd be rude to leave her in the dark about her current situation. Wouldn't you agree?"

* * *

Orihime sat at the table, her head resting on its smooth surface. She was bored—bored, bored, bored with a side of blah. She really wished they had given her something, anything, to do. A person could only watch the moon or count the number of threads in the rug so many times. She had gotten up to 848,963 when she had lost count—or had grown bored. She wasn't sure which anymore.

"I'm coming in," she heard a familiar voice say from outside her door.

Apparently Ulquiorra had finished reporting the details of his mission to Aizen. Lifting her head, she turned to watch the door open and see him enter. But her eyes widened when she noticed another person also enter.

"Szayel-san?" she asked, curious but a bit of worried.

Only a few hours had passed since she was alone with him, but she felt she'd gotten to know him better. Of course, she'd never seen him before in her life, so it only made sense she would get to know him better the more time she spent with him. She still felt apprehensive being in his presence, especially considering...

"Orihime-san," he said, adding the formality back to her name. Her apprehension died down a bit. "It's so nice to see you again, and in such a short period of time."

She nodded. "Likewise."

Ulquiorra glanced between them before stating, without ceremony, "Szayel will be watching you from now on."

"Huh? What do you mean, Ulquiorra?" she asked, looking between the two Espada.

Szayel shook his head, soft laughter escaping his lips. "You have to drain all the fun out of everything, don't you?" he asked rhetorically, and sighed. "What he said is true, Orihime-san. Aizen-sama requires Ulquiorra's skills more frequently these days, leaving no one to care for you."

She frowned. "As much as I appreciate Aizen...-san's concern, I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for a while, you know."

Szayel smiled. "I have no doubt of that. However, it's much too dangerous to let you wander around the halls of Las Noches. There are those here who wouldn't—how to put it?—treat you as kindly as they should."

"Oh." Orihime's face paled at his implication. "Well, in that case," she continued, standing up and bowing, "thank you very much, Szayel-san. I'm sorry to be a burden."

He put his hands up, a little surprised by her gesture. "Please, Orihime-san, there is no need for apologies. It's my pleasure."

Beside him, Szayel could feel Ulquiorra's reiatsu flair. His assumptions seemed to be correct. It was amazing the power she held over the Cuarta Espada—and she didn't even realize it. Szayel couldn't help smirking at the thought.

"Anyway," Ulquiorra said, stepping in-between them. He placed a hand on Orihime's shoulder. "It's time for her meal."

She looked at the floor dejectedly. Szayel noticed her change in demeanor but said nothing, instead choosing to stand in front of one of the walls.

"I see," he said, his arms behind him. "If that's the case, then I guess I should stay. Just so I know what I have to look forward to, right?"

Ulquiorra glared at him, amusing Szayel to no end. "Enter."

A lower-leveled Arrancar entered the room, eyeing the two Espada nervously as he pushed the cart. Then, as quickly as possible without running, he left.

Ulquiorra grabbed a plate from the cart and placed it on the table, taking off the lid. Beneath was a plate of plain white rice, ready for consumption. Turning his gaze to Orihime, he said, "Eat."

"I'm not hungry," Orihime said, frowning at the food on the table.

"Woman, do not play these games now. You need to eat," Ulquiorra said, a bit of irritation coloring his voice. "If you do not eat—"

"Then you'll be forced to give me an IV or force it down my throat," she finished for him. Obviously Ulquiorra hadn't been expecting this, judging from the slight widening of his eyes. "I know, but I'm just not hungry."

"Is it that you aren't hungry, Orihime-san? Or is it that the food isn't quite to your liking?" Szayel asked from his spot. He was fairly certain he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her own lips.

Her eyes widened at his question. "Well, um, actually..." Orihime blushed, gripping the front of her uniform. "It's not that the food is bad. It's just...white rice as just a meal is a bit bland."

He nodded and smiled. "Well, I think that will have to be remedied. Don't you agree, Ulquiorra?" he asked, looking at the Cuarta Espada smugly.

"Hmph."

"Wonderful," Szayel said, clapping his hands together. "So, what do you think would make the meal better?"

Orihime brought her pointer finger to her lips and thought for a moment. "Peanuts," she said resolutely, "and perhaps some honey and pickles. Maybe some wasabi?"

The two Espada looked at her, unsure what to say. Neither really knew what could be considered normal human food, but something told them this was not it.

Clearing his throat, Szayel said, "I think that could be arranged. How about a deal, Orihime-san? Eat this last meal of plain rice, and from now on you'll be able to have your peanut-honey-pickle-wasabi rice?"

"That sounds fair," she said. "It won't be too much trouble, will it?" She grabbed the chopsticks next to the plate and started eating.

"Not at all," he replied, observing the dainty way she used her chopsticks to bring the rice to her lips, and how she chewed the food slowly. After about 15 minutes, free of IVs and force-feedings, Orihime finished the meal, and the cart was taken away.

"If there is nothing else you will be requiring," Ulquiorra said, and headed for the door, Szayel trailing behind him.

"Um..."

Szayel turned around. "Yes, Orihime-san?"

Orihime blushed, her gaze averted to the floor. "Well, if it's not too much trouble...I mean, is it possible to get something for me to do when I'm by myself? A person can watch the moon or count the number of fibers in the rug only so many times."

Ulquiorra turned around. "We'll see."

"Oh, okay. Thank you, Ulquiorra," she said, smiling softly before he turned around and exited the room.

Szayel stayed for a moment, watching her walk over to the couch and plopped down wearily.

"Don't worry, Orihime-san. I'll bring you something to keep your mind occupied," he whispered, winking at her as he shut the door, but not before he noticed the red tinge that had found its way to her face. Turning around, he nearly bumped into Ulquiorra, who eyed at him suspiciously.

"Why are you acting like that?" Ulquiorra demanded, apparently having heard their little exchange.

Szayel shrugged. "Acting like what?" He tried to walk away, but he was cut off.

"You know what I mean," Ulquiorra said pointedly. "You're acting...nice around her. Sickeningly so. Everyone knows that you are anything but nice."

"Why do you act the way you do around her? Oh yeah, that's right. You act like a cold-hearted bastard to everyone you meet. I forgot."

"You're dodging the question. Perhaps she's the one changing you."

Scoffing, Szayel shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. That has nothing to do with it. There's a phrase from the human world that is extremely appropriate and true in circumstances such as these."

Ulquiorra put his hands in his pockets. "And what phrase is that?"

His grin widened, a malicious glint reflecting in Szayel's eyes. "Don't you know? You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

* * *

Once back in his laboratory, Szayel started writing furiously on his clipboard, certain not to forget a single detail about his newest specimen. He smirked as he read what was written on the page:

_Subject: Inoue Orihime  
Species: Human  
Age:  
Sex: Female  
Height: 157 cm  
Weight:  
Physical Characteristics: Soft orange hair held back with two light blue clips, brown eyes, smooth skin  
Other characteristics: Blushes easily, intelligent, observant, inquisitive, amusing sense of humor, frequently apologizes (submissive?), very warm, uncomfortable with familiarity, demure, radiating light/life from her entire being_

Laughter filled the laboratory as he continued writing, biding his time until Ulquiorra was sent on another mission. A few days had passed since the last encounter with his specimen. The day after the 'experiment,' as he called it, had begun, he arranged for her food to be changed to what she'd requested. He'd also sent her some things to keep her from becoming too restless.

How would she react with the changes he had implemented? Szayel tapped his pen against the clipboard, circling the areas that required more investigation.

"Szayel Aporro-sama! Szayel Aporro-sama!" Lumina and Verona exclaimed as they entered the room. He winced at the sound of their shrill voices.

"What is it?" he said, glaring at them. "You know when I'm in here I'm not to be disturbed!"

Seeing them, he realized he was supposed to have punished them a few days ago. He shook his head and sighed. It was too late to do it now. They wouldn't even remember what they were being punished for.

"I'll tell him!"

"No, I'll tell him!"

He rubbed his temples lightly, irritation building at an alarming rate. "I don't care who tells me. Someone tell me whatever news you have, and it better be good or else."

The two Arrancar looked at each other and replied simultaneously, "Ulquiorra-san is going out on another mission! That means the woman needs to be cared for!"

Szayel took a moment to take this in, then grinned. "Is that so? I guess I should be going off to my newly acquired duties, shouldn't I? Leave."

His fraccion bounded out of the room. Taking his clipboard, he exited his domain and made his way to the subject's room. The look on his face resembled a child who knew Christmas had come early.

"Oh, Orihime. I'm going to have so much fun experimenting on you."


	3. Descriptive Statistics

It was hard not to sonido to Orihime's room and get started with his experimentation. But if there was anything Szayel prided himself on, it was his self-control. A couple of lower-level Arrancar eyed him, apprehensive at seeing the Octava Espada so excited. He ignored their gazes, his excitement growing as he got closer to his goal. He was nearly to her chambers when a tall lanky Espada stepped in front of him.

"Hey, Szayel," Nnoitra said, sauntering up to him. "What are you doing up here in the land of the 'living'? I didn't think you left your lab unless Aizen-sama ordered you up here for meetings and shit."

Szayel looked up at him distastefully. "As articulate as always. It's none of your business why I am here, Nnoitra, so move." He tried walking around the Quinta Espada, but to no avail.

"Hey, don't be like that!" Nnoitra said. "What's got you so antsy that you don't even want to have a friendly chat, huh? After all we've been through."

Szayel said nothing as Nnoitra took in their surroundings, his eyes widening ever-so-slightly.

"Wait a minute. This is where Pet-sama is being kept, right? Ulquiorra's out on a mission, and her replacement guard is going to be coming any minu—" He stopped in mid-sentence as the realization hit him. His shrewd grin grew wider. "So, that's why you're here. You're Pet-sama's replacement guard."

"If that's what you wish to call it," Szayel said. He wished Nnoitra would move the hell out of the way so he could get to his subject. Time was of the essence. Ulquiorra would only be on his mission for so long, and he hoped to get as much information from Orihime in this session as possible.

"And what are you calling it, exactly?" Nnoitra asked, in a half-interested tone.

Szayel smirked. "Experimentation, of course." He held up his clipboard to accentuate his point.

"Experimentation?" Nnoitra repeated, an eyebrow raised. "How did you convince Aizen-sama to let you experiment on her? More importantly," he said, chuckling, "will there be anything left when you're through with her?"

Sighing, Szayel said, "I'm afraid I'll have to collect my data in a more...roundabout way than I am used to. If any harm were to come to her, it wouldn't only be Aizen-sama out for my head." The image of an angered Ulquiorra came to mind.

Suddenly, the board was ripped from his grasp as Nnoitra started reading the information he'd gathered. Szayel glared at him while the other Espada nodded at certain places and scoffed at others.

"What the hell? You didn't write anything about her boobs?" Nnoitra exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. He handed the clipboard back. "How could you miss that? Either you're blinder than Tousen or gayer than Luppi."

Szayel grabbed the board from his hands, irritated. "Forgive me for finding attributes about my subject—other than her chest size—more appealing. But I'll remember to amend her physical characteristics to include your very astute observation." Having had enough of Nnoitra's antics, he pushed past the tall Espada and walked to his subject's room. His hand was on the handle of the door, ready to open it, when he heard Nnoitra call out.

"Hey Szayel! Why don't you let me and Pet-sama spend some 'quality' time together, huh? You know, for old times sake."

He turned to the Quinta Espada coldly. "I don't remember owing you anything, Nnoitra. If anything, it's the other way around. Besides," he said, smirking, "I can't have any extraneous variables ruining my experiment."

* * *

A few minuted had passed since Ulquiorra'd left her alone—but at least this time Orihime wasn't bored out of her mind. She hadn't expected Szayel to keep his promise to bring her something to pass the time, and yet the day after he visited her, she found an array of books and games in one corner of her room.

But how had he managed it? She giggled at the mental image of the Octava Espada going from store to store, the bags in his hands threatening to overwhelm him. Orihime shook her head. Somehow she seriously doubted it.

She looked up from the book she was reading when she heard the door creak open. Szayel walked in, a clipboard held in one of his hands. Orihime looked at it curiously, but didn't question him as he shut the door behind him.

"Good morning, Szayel-san," she said hesitantly. "Or...would it be good evening?"

"Hello, Orihime-san," he said, the grin on his face growing. The sight unnerved her a little. "I see you approve of the materials I gathered for you."

She looked at the stack of objects and nodded. "Yes. Thank you very much," she said automatically as she bowed. "I'm not sure how you managed to get all the stuff here, but I really appreciate it."

He waved his hand dismissively. "It was nothing. That is what fraccion and lower-level Arrancar are for." He paused. "It must be awfully confining being in this room all the time, huh?"

"Yes...," she said, trailing off before she caught herself. "Not saying that it's a bad room! I'm sure it's one of the most exquisite rooms in Las Noches!" She continued rambling for a bit while Szayel studied her.

Such an unusual reaction, he decided, writing down what he saw onto the clipboard.

Once Orihime had calmed herself, she noticed Szayel's frantic writing. "Szayel-san? What are you doing?" She walked over to him in the hopes of catching a glimpse, but he pulled the board close to him before she had a chance to read anything.

"Nothing important, Orihime-san. Anyway, I thought perhaps we could walk around Las Noches. I'm sure you'd like to see something other than your room for a change, right?"

She blushed. "Well, yes..."

"We don't have to go, if you don't want to."

"No, it's not that at all! I would love to! It's just weird to have you offer. I remember when I first came to Las Noches, I would beg Ulquiorra to let me go out of my room and walk around a bit, but he refused. He said it was too dangerous."

Szayel nodded. "If you went by yourself, it certainly would be. However, I'll be with you. No Arrancar in their right mind would try anything. Stay close to me, and you'll be fine."

Deliberating for a moment, Orihime finally gave in and followed him out of the room. It was the first time since she'd been taken to Las Noches to explore her surroundings. Not that there was much variation in the architecture. Every hall looked the same, with the same white walls and floors—but Szayel seemed to know where he was going. After walking quietly for what felt like an eternity, the silence was starting to get to her.

"Szayel-san?" she asked, looking up at him nervously.

"Yes?" He watched her out the corner of his eye, surprised she'd handled the silence for as long as she did. But then, when the only companion she had was about as talkative as a statue, it made sense she'd become accustomed to long periods of silence.

"I don't know." She laughed nervously, scratching the back of her head. "I didn't really speak with a topic in mind, it's just...the silence was becoming too oppressive, you know?"

He resisted the urge to write his observations in his notes, knowing that if he did, she would ask to see them. Szayel glanced at his clipboard wearily. This meant he would have to remember as many details as possible from their interactions and record them later, or else risk rousing her suspicion. How inconvenient.

"How about this?" he asked, noting a curious look spread across her face. "I'll ask a question, then you ask a question and so on. We'll keep going until we can't think of any more questions, or until we get bored."

She considered his proposition. "Okay, that sounds like a plan. Who'll go first?"

"Why don't you go first? You're our guest, after all."

Orihime frowned at his remark, but said nothing. A beat passed before she asked, "Have you ever thought about changing your hair color?"

Szayel tried not to roll his eyes. Of course. But he supposed it was better than her asking why his hair was pink.

"Some days more than others," he answered, forcing a smile. "How old are you, Orihime-san?"

She wasn't sure what questions she'd expected him to ask, but she hadn't expected such a normal one. "Sixteen. Actually," she said, her voice taking a far-off tone, "that's when I met Ulquiorra." Szayel gave her a confused look as they rounded the corner. "My most recent birthday. That was the first time I'd ever seen Ulquiorra."

"I see."

"Now that I think about it, how old are you, Szayel-san?"

He thought for a bit before saying, "Very young and very old."

Orihime tilted her head as she looked at him, almost running into another Arrancar in the process. "I'm sorry!" she called out to the Arrancar, who muttered something about stupid humans. "How can you be both very young and very old?"

"I believe it's my turn to be asking the questions, Orihime-san." He smirked, noticing her blush.

"I-I wasn't asking a question," she stammered. "I just wanted clarification."

Szayel chuckled lightly. "I was joking," he said, and her blush turned an even deeper shade of red. "I'm very young because my current form as an Arrancar came into existence just recently. However, I'm also very old because the Hollows that made me up before I gained this new form have been around for centuries. As a result, I'm very old and very young."

"A-Amazing!" Orihime said, not sure how to react otherwise. A couple of Arrancar looked at them with perplexed or disgusted looks on their faces, not that they noticed--or, in Szayel's case, cared.

"What does your family consist of?"

A forlorn expression crossed her face. "I have a couple of distant relatives who help support me, but other than that I live by myself. I used to live with my older brother, but he died a couple of years ago." She stopped, fighting back tears at the memory of her brother. "I don't really remember my parents. I'm not even sure if they're dead or alive," she said, choking on her words.

"Hm." He'd obviously hit a nerve; she must've been very close to her brother.

They were almost to their destination when his thoughts were interrupted.

"Do you have any friends here in Las Noches, Szayel-san?" she asked softly. He looked at her, confused. "You know, companions? Confidants? Comrades?"

"I know what you meant." He thought for a couple of minutes, formulating his answer; he hadn't expected her question to catch him off-guard. "Friendship isn't exactly...common...among Arrancar."

"In other words, no."

He grinned at her directness. "That would be correct. Now, don't look at me so pitifully, Orihime-san. You can't miss what you've never had, can you?"

"I suppose not," she agreed, still frowning. "But it's still sad to think about it like that."

Suddenly, they were in front of a large ornate door. Orihime stared up at it in awe, at the carvings in the marble-like substance. She couldn't make out what was being depicted, if anything. She turned to Szayel, curious.

"It leads to the world outside Las Noches: Hueco Mundo. I thought you might enjoy seeing something other than the inside walls of Las Noches. The same white walls and floors tends to get repetitive, doesn't it?"

She nodded in agreement. "Still, I can't believe Aizen-sama would allow you to take me outside."

He didn't answer her, instead grabbing the handle of the door and pushing. With what seemed to be minimal effort the door creaked open, revealing the sandy desert environment of Hueco Mundo. Much to her disappoint, the color palette outside of Las Noches wasn't much different from that of the one inside. Szayel walked out first, waiting for Orihime to follow his lead; and after a moment's hesitation, she hurried to his side.

"Wow!" she said, glancing up at the sky. "The moon looks different out here than it does through the window in my room. It's so big and bright! Does that mean it's nighttime now or...what?"

"So much for 'you ask a question, I ask a question,'" he said humorously, seeing her take in every aspect of the environment. She looked further out on the horizon and pointed at something in the distance.

"Say, Szayel-san," she said, tugging on his sleeve as she barraged him with her questions. "What is that over there? It can't be—Is it a tree? When does it blossom? Does it produce any flowers?" She looked at him hopefully.

He stared at the object for a second. "Yes, it is indeed a tree, but it is not quite like the trees you're familiar with."

"Why's that?" She stood on her tiptoes, a hand above her brow to help her see the tree better.

"Unlike the trees from the human world, trees in Hueco Mundo are made of a substance analogous to quartz." Noting Orihime's confused look, he added, "As a result, these trees cannot bloom, nor can they produce flowers. They aren't alive."

She seemed crestfallen at his answer; she stopped what she was doing. "Oh. I see."

Orihime knelt down and started playing with the white sand, making patterns with her pointer finger that resembled a sun and some flowers and trees. Szayel stood next to her. He watched her take a handful of sand and sift it through her hands a few times, a small frown on her face.

He was confused no end. She should be happy to be outside in a new environment. On the contrary—she seemed even more disheartened. What a curious reaction.

He cleared his throat, causing her to turn around and face him. "What's the matter, Orihime-san?"

"Nothing." She stood up, brushing some of the sand grains off her dress. She avoided his gaze, instead focused on his boots.

Szayel knew this wasn't true. He decided to probe her further. "Except...?"

She hesitated for a moment or two, then finally asked, "There's nothing alive here in Hueco Mundo, is there Szayel-san?" Her eyebrows furrowed.

"No," he said, considering her carefully. "Well, except for you."

Her face flushed at his comment. "I guess."

But Szayel didn't hear what she said, instead focused on a familiar reiatsu re-entering Hueco Mundo. He grinned, amused at the speed with which Ulquiorra'd finished his mission. Apparently he didn't approve of Szayel spending time with 'his' woman.

"Come, we should return to your room. I think we will find a familiar guard waiting for you."

* * *

Thankfully Ulquiorra'd said nothing of Orihime being outside her room, though the looks he sent Szayel clearly said that if he pulled another stunt like that again, he wouldn't be so lucky.

He began amending the information he obtained from his subject, also adding the results of his first experiment. He'd hoped to gather more information, but it was no matter. There would be a next time. He sighed while he scribbled on his clipboard. It would have been much easier, he realized, if he didn't have to procure it in such a roundabout way.

_Subject: Inoue Orihime  
Species: Human  
Age: 16 years old  
Sex: Female  
Height: 157 cm  
Weight:  
Family: Mother and Father (situation unknown), older brother (deceased; seems to have been the substitute parental figure during development), distant relatives  
Physical Characteristics: Soft orange hair held back with two light blue clips, brown eyes, smooth skin, exaggerated chest_

Szayel rolled his eyes. Trust Nnoitra to be the most tasteful of the Espada.

_Other characteristics: Blushes easily, intelligent, observant, inquisitive, amusing sense of humor, frequently apologizes (submissive?), very warm, uncomfortable with familiarity, demure, eccentric, radiating light/life from her entire being..._

_Experiment 1: Exposure to the world outside Las Noches  
Null Hypothesis: There will be no change in the subject's behavior.  
Alternative Hypothesis: The subject will exhibit behavior characteristic of happiness and/or elation._

He tapped the pen against his lips. For the most part, both his alternative hypothesis and the null hypothesis were incorrect. Then again, he never would've expected her to react with such melancholy during any part of the experiment.

What peculiar reactions she exhibited.


	4. Translation

Szayel wasn't really surprised when his fraccion came into the laboratory a few minutes after he'd returned his subject to her room, informing him that Aizen had requested his presence. He wasn't even surprised when he ran into Ulquiorra, who also happened to be heading to Aizen's throne room.

But he was pissed off, because he knew that whatever was in store for him couldn't possibly be good; and unlike the "comrade" beside him, Szayel wasn't above expressing said emotion. He glared at Ulquiorra with the same disdain that Grimmjow'd had for Luppi—and then some. Though think about it, he should've figured the Cuarta Espada would behave like the good little lapdog he was.

Ulquiorra spoke first, which was odd in and of itself. "Aizen-sama, I feel you should reconsider having Szayel as the woman's guard while I'm away on missions," he said, and gave the Octava Espada a pointed look. "He's too reckless with her."

"I see," Aizen said, his head resting on his hand. "In what way, Cuarta Espada?"

"Not only did he allow her to leave her room, he also allowed her to go outside Las Noches. All this he did without your permission, Aizen-sama. If anything happened to her during that time..."

They hadn't been in the throne room for more than a few minutes, and already Szayel'd had enough of Ulquiorra's blabber. Really, since when did he get to be so talkative?

Aizen turned towards him, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Is this true, Szayel Aporro Granz?"

Szayel's eyes widened in fear. Like with a child, he knew Aizen calling him by his full name was_ not _good. "It's true, Aizen-sama," he said, then cleared his throat. "However, I have a good reason for doing what I did."

Ulquiorra turned to him coldly. "There's nothing you can say that could justify you going against Aizen-sama's orders."

"It was never part of Aizen-sama's orders that she be contained only to her room, Ulquiorra," Szayel said, his eyes narrowed into tiny slits. "Unlike yourself, I understand the importance of keeping our guest healthy in every respect, not just physically. Her psychological health must also be taken into consideration if you want her to survive—and a change of scenery can help in that respect. Not significantly, but just enough."

"That does not excuse you from not notifying Aizen-sama of your intent—"

"Well, Cuarta Espada-san, perhaps if you'd taken her psychological health into consideration while she was under only your care, it wouldn't have been necessary."

"Are you implying this incident is somehow my fault?" Ulquiorra asked, barely raising an eyebrow.

Szayel chuckled. "Does it sound like I am?"

Aizen watched the two Espada squabble like petulant children. Well, more like Szayel bickering while Ulquiorra stood there stiffly, muttering a word or two of his own. They continued for a few minutes before he raised a hand, signaling them to stop.

"Enough."

"He started it," Szayel muttered, not daring to look at Ulquiorra.

"I don't care who started it, Szayel Aporro," Aizen said, and released just enough of his reiatsu to cause the two Espada to kneel to the ground, overwhelmed. "If need be, I will be the one who ends it. Understood?"

Szayel and Ulquiorra got up from the ground and bowed. "We understand, Aizen-sama."

Aizen nodded as they lifted their heads. "Good," he said, then turned to Ulquiorra. "Although I appreciate you notifying me of a potentially threatening situation, you do not need to do this in the future. Szayel's well aware of the consequences, should anything happen to our guest."

Ulquiorra nodded slightly, almost embarrassed.

"And Szayel," Aizen continued. "While I appreciate you taking special consideration into all aspects of our guest's well-being, there won't be a repeat of these events."

Szayel deciphered the true meaning behind his words: _In the future get my permission, or else I'll make sure you regret it._

"Yes, Aizen-sama," he said, trying not to grit his teeth.

"If that's all we have to discuss," Aizen said, a tone of finality to his voice.

The two Espada bowed before they left the room, not saying a word to each other as they walked back to their respective domains. After a few minutes, a high-pitched beeping noise emitted from somewhere in the hallway; Ulquiorra and a few stray Arrancar winced. Szayel took a weird metallic device from out of his pocket and frowned deeply.

"Hm," he said, staring at the device. "It shouldn't have taken her that long to complete the task. I'll have to figure out what went wrong whenever I meet with the subject again. "

"What are you talking about, Szayel?" Ulquiorra demanded, about to turn to the weird device and it's creator. But he found the spot where the Octava Espada previously was empty. Blinking once, he shook his head and continued to walk to Orihime's room.

* * *

Orihime wasn't really surprised find Ulquiorra in her room, a disapproving look on his face—though how she could tell she wasn't sure, since his face didn't look any different than usual. She wasn't surprised that there was an almost unbearable amount of tension when the two Espada glared at each other with cold, calculating looks. She wasn't even that surprised when Ulquiorra told her that he had something important to do, and that she should refrain from doing anything—how did he put it?

Ah, yes: foolish.

But she wasn't expecting to find a small white scrap of paper attached to the back side of her door, black ink marring the surface. Intrigued, she pulled the paper off and tried reading what was written on the note. Tried being the operative word in this case, as she turned the paper, hoping to make sense of what was written.

She was pretty sure it was Japanese. At least, it looked Japanese. She squinted to make the handwriting discernible. Was that character supposed to be a 'ki' or a 'sa'?

After a few more minutes of staring at the paper, she finally figured out what was written.

_Although rice is fine.  
Sometimes, there needs to be spice.  
Please enjoy your meal._

Orihime blinked. What kind of a haiku was this? And what was that supposed to mean exactly?

She stared at the paper, her fingers rubbing against the smooth surface as she re-read the poem in her head, trying to make some sense of it. It was almost as if it was some kind of a clue.

Wait! Maybe it is a clue. Rice...meal...spice...

She folded her arms across her chest. The only thing that would be related to that would be—

She stopped in mid-thought, her eyes wide in realization. Walking over to the table, she looked and felt around for something, though for what exactly she wasn't sure. As she felt the underside, her hand brushed against another slip of paper. Pulling it off, she brought the note to eye-level and read the next haiku.

_There is no sunlight  
to bring you joy in this world.  
There's only the moon._

Orihime took considerably less time to decipher the handwriting this time around, and in the matter of minutes she was on her tip-toes, blindly searching the windowsill for another sheet of paper. Eventually, she grabbed the chair from her table and used it as a step-stool.

What was this is all about, though? What was the point of all these clues? And more importantly, why was this being done in the first place?

_A splash of color  
in this world of white and gray  
underneath your feet._

She took a few moments to search her rug for anything, though she was pretty sure that if she hadn't seen anything on the floor, Ulquiorra sure would've.

Under the rug, perhaps?

Lifting it up, she found the sheet of paper. But this one was different from the others. The paper was obviously of much higher quality, like the writer of the haiku was proud enough of their poem that they felt it deserved more than just a simple scrap. Also, the handwriting was more legible, written in a beautiful cursive hand. Unlike the previous three poems, this one was in English. Orihime frowned as she recalled all the English she'd learned thus far, her fingers tapping against her bottom lip. After a few moments of translating the poem in her head, she read aloud:

"_What dreams come to you?  
Visions of happiness or  
nightmares unending?"_

For some reason, a cold chill ran up her spine. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her arms. Why did this haiku disturb her more than the rest? Perhaps because it was truer than she would like to admit.

She searched the creases of the couch, feeling for another scrap of paper. But to her surprise, she didn't find a piece of parchment; instead, her hand brushed against something cold and metallic. Gulping, she pulled the object from the couch. In her hands was a fine silver chain, a small pendant in the shape of a butterfly hanging from it. The butterfly was made up of some kind of pink stones she'd never seen before. Nonetheless, the way the stones reflected what little light was filtering into the room was beautiful, the reflections casting on the walls in an almost magical fashion. She smiled softly, touched at the thought that someone would give her something so extravagant.

Without a second thought, she placed the gift around her neck, feeling the weight of the pendant against her chest.

* * *

"I see you like the necklace," Szayel said, not looking up from his work.

Orihime gasped. "That was you, Szayel-san?"

He nodded, then he asked if she could hand him the tool beside her. Ulquiorra was out on another mission, which meant she was once again in Szayel's domain until he returned.

What was with all these missions lately? Was Ulquiorra really that valuable to Aizen? The realization of just how powerful her other guard might be was starting to sink in.

"Yes," he said, taking the tool she handed him. He nodded in thanks. "Though I'm surprised a certain guard of yours hasn't inquired how you obtained such an object."

She laughed nervously, leaning against one of the tables. "Well, yeah. I mean, I had a feeling Ulquiorra would get suspicious about it, so I tuck it under my clothing when I'm with him."

Szayel looked up from the machine he was tinkering with and smirked. "Is that so, Orihime-san? I didn't believe it was in you to be so...secretive."

Orihime tried to hide her blush. "I-I'm not! I mean, I'm not trying to be!"

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me," he laughed, taking a couple of wires and connecting them to...something. Electronics wasn't exactly her strong suit, but Szayel seemed to know what he was doing.

She was just surprised he could keep his clothes that pristine white. If it'd been her, she knew without a doubt that her dress would be filthy before she finished.

"Why?" she asked, fingering the pendant gently. "I mean, why did you give this to me? And what was with all the poems? I-I'm really confused about all that."

Szayel looked at her for a moment or two, wiping his hands clean of the grease and grime onto a spare rag. "Just wanted to keep things interesting for you." She tilted her head, obviously confused, so he went on, "And also to keep your mind sharp. That's what the haiku clues were for, anyway. You can only get so much stimulation from books. You need other tasks where you can think outside the box."

Orihime nodded, not quite sure she fully understood his reasoning. "I...see. To be honest, I was surprised I was reading haikus. I didn't think Arrancar would know about them."

"Most wouldn't," he said. "However, I'm well versed in human history, so I've come to learn about such things. I wanted to do something more unique in the way of clues." He paused as he started polishing the white case of the cube. "Speaking of which, what did you think of them? They weren't too difficult for you to figure out, were they?"

Szayel glanced at her as she looked up in thought. He needed to know what went wrong in the experiment; it shouldn't have taken her that long to obtain her reward. Even with the last poem, which required her to translate the text, it shouldn't have taken as long as she had.

She coughed, mumbling out a few words that he couldn't hear.

"What was that?" he asked.

"It wasn't that the clues were hard," she said, averting her gaze. She found herself blushing—again. "It's just that...um...with the exception of the last poem, it took me a while to decipher your handwriting, Szayel-san."

He looked up from his work, staring at her wordlessly for a beat. Then he suddenly chuckled. He resumed polishing the cube. "Is my handwriting that bad?"

"I-I'm sorry, Szayel-san! I've offended you, haven't I?"

He raised his hand to stop her. "Please, no need for apologies. I simply never realized how illegible my handwriting is. After all," he said, his grin growing, "you're the first person other than myself to read anything I've written."

Orihime's eyes widened. "Really? Not even Aizen...-san?"

He shook his head as he added the finishing touches to his creation. "No, not even Aizen-sama. Well, I think it's done," Szayel said proudly, taking in the sight of his newest creation.

"I still can't believe you actually took my advice and made it an Ulquiorra translator." She giggled, placing a hand over her mouth.

"Why wouldn't I?" He walked to stand beside her. "It was a good suggestion. Here, why don't you try it out? Say something that Ulquiorra would likely say, and we'll see what this little translator will do."

"Okay." She took a moment to think of something the Cuarta Espada would say. Finally, she said, "Woman."

There was a pause, then a smooth, masculine voice came from the cube on the pedestal. "Orihime."

Szayel smirked in success as she took a few steps closer, her gaze fixed on the machine. "You mean all this time Ulquiorra, in his own way, has been calling me by my first name? Unbelievable!"

"Apparently," he said, placing his arm over the cube. "Now all we need is a name and—"

"TREA!" Orihime exclaimed, smiling widely.

"Pardon?"

"TREA! I'm not sure why, but it looks like a TREA to me. I've thought so ever since the first time I saw it."

"I was just going to call it TR-859, but I suppose TREA will do," he said, removing his arm from the cube. "Does it stand for anything in particular?"

She nodded. "Translator Robot of Extreme...Attractiveness!"

"Orihime-san is so amusing," he said, and switched the machine's power off. His smirk widened. How did she always seem to challenge his preconceptions about her?

Her eyebrows furrowed at his comment. "What do you—?"

"Woman, it's time to leave," said a voice from behind them. Placing the pendant beneath her collar, Orihime turned around to see a stone-faced Ulquiorra.

"Really? That was awfully fast," she said.

Ulquiorra stared at her blankly. "Fast?" he asked, sounding almost confused. "I did not realize eight hours was 'fast.'"

"I've been here for that long?" she asked disbelievingly. She turned to Szayel. "It didn't even feel like that much time has passed!"

"Supposedly time flies when you're having fun," he said, watching her reaction carefully. He picked up the cube and handed it to her. "Here you go, Orihime-san—a present for you. I think you'll need this more than I will." Szayel winked at her slyly, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said, taking the device from its creator. Orihime was somewhat surprised at how light the machine was. Ulquiorra looked at the cube suspiciously.

"Don't worry, Ulquiorra-san," Szayel said, somewhat mockingly. "It doesn't do anything harmful. Right, Orihime-san?"

She nodded.

"Hm." Ulquiorra's gaze shifted between the machine and Szayel, distrustful. "Come, we need to go," he said, walking to the entrance of Szayel's domain, Orihime following closely behind him.

* * *

When they returned to her room, Orihime placed TREA on her table, a small smile on her face. This did not escape Ulquiorra's notice, who continued to look at the creation with a mixture of distrust and disdain.

She could hardly contain her excitement. Finally, she could understand what Ulquiorra was trying to tell her. And maybe if she could better understand what he was saying, she could have more meaningful conversations with him. She flipped the switch at the back of the cube, turning the machine on.

"How did your mission go, Ulquiorra?" she asked politely.

Ulquiorra turned his gaze to her. "That is none of your concern, woman."

"It went well, Orihime," TREA said.

Ulquiorra looked almost shocked by the voice that'd come from the machine, but said nothing. His eyes narrowed.

It was really working! Her smile widened at the realization. She made a mental note to thank Szayel for making such a wonderful invention.

"So, what was your mission about?"

"I will not to repeat myself."

"Although I would very much like to tell you about the nature of my mission, I am unable to do so. I hope you can forgive me," TREA spit out.

"Enough of this nonsense. It's time for your meal, woman," Ulquiorra said, clearly irritated.

"I want to make love to you, over and over and over again."

They stared at the cube—one in disbelief, the other in embarrassment. Orihime's mouth dropped open, her hand covering her mouth as her face turned the deepest shade of red possible. Ulquiorra's eyes widened, a light tinge of pink staining his face. Silence—that was all that was heard for the next five minutes after TREA had finished translating. If she listened hard enough, Orihime could've sworn she heard the footsteps of Arrancar outside the room, talking about something of little consequence. After what seemed like an eternity, Ulquiorra moved towards the table and picked up the cube.

"Ulquiorra? What—What are you doing?"

He said nothing, instead exiting the room. A second later, the muttering of "cero" and high-pitched screams could be heard outside the room. Her eyes widened when Ulquiorra returned empty-handed.

"Where's TREA?" She grabbed his wrists, inspecting his hands, as if she expected him to hide the cube somewhere on his person.

Pulling his hands from her grasp, he said, "I'm afraid that TREA, as you call it, will be out of commission for a while."

"Y-You killed TREA, didn't you?" Her eyebrows furrowed at the thought of a crispy burnt cube. "How could you? Ulquiorra, you're too cruel."

Ulquiorra resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'll be back with your meal, woman."


	5. Operation

Once he heard the door to his domain slam shut, signaling the exit of the Cuarta Espada and Orihime, Szayel headed to his research lab. He grabbed his clipboard and the pen laying on top one of the tables, and started amending his subject's characteristics, recording the results of his latest experiment.

_Subject: Inoue Orihime  
Species: Human  
Age: 16 years old  
Sex: Female  
Height: 157 cm  
Weight:  
Family: Mother and Father (situation unknown), older brother (deceased; seems to have been the substitute parental figure during development), distant relatives  
Physical Characteristics: Soft orange hair held back with two light blue clips, brown eyes, smooth skin, exaggerated chest  
Other characteristics: Blushes easily, intelligent, observant, inquisitive, amusing sense of humor, frequently apologizes (submissive?), very warm, uncomfortable with familiarity, demure, eccentric, radiating light/life from her entire being..._

_Experiment 1: Exposure to the world outside Las Noches  
Null Hypothesis: There will be no change in the subject's behavior.  
Alternative Hypothesis: The subject will exhibit behavior characteristic of happiness and/or elation.  
Results: Both the hypothesis and the null hypothesis were proven incorrect. The outdoor stimulus elicited a melancholic reaction in the subject._

He frowned as he read over the results of the first experiment again. She didn't get upset until he informed her that the trees in Hueco Mundo weren't alive. Was that what affected her, being the only living thing there?

_Experiment 2: Logic and problem-solving task  
Methods: Four slips of white paper were randomly placed within the subject's room: on the back of the door, under the table, under the rug, and in one of the creases in the couch. On the slips of paper were written haiku poems/clues that would lead the subject to the next poem/clue. The fourth and final clue would result in the subject finding the reinforcement. In this particular experiment, the reinforcement was a simple silver chain with a butterfly pendant inlaid with pink stones._

He was about to write down the null and alternative hypotheses when he was interrupted by a knock on the domain entrance door. After a moment of silence, Szayel went back to his work. But then he heard another knock. Confused, he pushed himself up from his desk and walked to the door. Upon opening it, he was greeted with the sight of an annoyed Ulquiorra.

"Why, what brings you to my domain?" Szayel asked, a bit surprised at the emotion currently etched into the other Espada's face. This was the first time he could remember Ulquiorra looking visibly perturbed.

Ulquiorra said nothing; instead, he held out his hands, showing him the burnt form of a once pure-white cube. Szayel stared at TREA blankly, then returned his gaze to the Cuarta Espada.

"If my eyes ever lay sight on this thing again," Ulquiorra said distastefully, "I will make sure there is nothing left for you to fix." He released the cube with a crash and, glaring at him one more time, sonidoed back to Orihime's room.

Szayel stood there for a few moments, his gaze moving between where Ulquiorra previously stood and where TREA currently lay in seemingly millions of pieces. Nothing he couldn't fix, though.

His grin grew as he fully processed the other Espada's reaction to his newest creation. How ungrateful. After picking up the pieces of the cube from the floor and placing them on a table in his laboratory, he went back to the desk were the clipboard rested to finish jotting down his notes.

_Null hypothesis: The subject will take over 10 minutes to complete the task.  
Alternative Hypothesis: The subject will complete the task within 10 minutes.  
Results: The null hypothesis was proven correct in this task, however, there were confounding variables that affected the results. Task will have to be repeated in order to get a more accurate representation of the subject's mental capabilities_.

He didn't know whether to be relieved or perturbed the reason Orihime took so long to complete the task was her inability to read his handwriting. Regardless, he had to admit the realization...amused him. The on problem he had now was, he wasn't sure how to replicate the task without the latest experience affecting her performance, especially since there were only so many places he could hide the clues.

Szayel looked over his notes one last time, making certain he didn't forget to write anything down that could possibly be relevant. He frowned at the blank spot next to weight.

This would definitely be a tricky one to obtain. It wasn't as if he could ask her, "Orihime-san, how much do you weigh?" The only thing that would elicit would be a slap or perhaps an outraged exclamation. Either way, she would close up on him. And he couldn't afford for that to happen, especially with the progress he'd made thus far.

He tapped the pen against the desk lightly. He couldn't ask her to get on a weighing scale either. It would arouse too much suspicion. He held back a heavy sigh.

"Perhaps if I could carry her I could approximate her weight. That would be better than nothing," Szayel said to himself. "But then, what reason would I have to carry her in the first place? Also, I'm sure a certain Cuarta Espada would have more than his share of issues once he heard what had taken place."

Running his fingers through his hair, he stood up and walked over to the table, where the now destroyed TREA resided. "I despise having incomplete data, but it seems this time there's no way around the issue."

* * *

A few days passed before Orihime saw Szayel again. Once more she was in his domain, in the same laboratory TREA was first created, except this time he was repairing the cube. It lay on the table, a little more than half-fixed.

She watched him work over the burnt cube, looking for a specific part of the machine in the pile beside him. It wasn't that she didn't also appreciate Ulquiorra's company; he just wasn't...the most talkative of people. With Szayel, he was at least willing to listen to whatever she had to say, even if it was something silly or meaningless.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," she said, noticing him throw her a glance to let her know he had heard her. "Thank you so much for giving me TREA. It really helped me understand what Ulquiorra was saying. Well, before he completely destroyed it."

Szayel smirked. "You're welcome. Though it seemed to have caused more trouble than it was worth."

"Well..." Orihime trailed off. "No matter. It wasn't your fault, after all." She paused. "Was that what Ulquiorra really meant?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

She turned a bright shade of red, remembering what TREA had translated. "N-Nothing. It's not important."

"Now that's not right, Orihime-san," Szayel teased, leaving his work for the moment. He took a step towards her. "You can't start something and leave the other person hanging like that."

She coughed nervously, avoiding his gaze. Her boots suddenly seemed more interesting now than they had before. "Really, it's nothing." She could feel the weight of his gaze on her. "It's just that, well, there's one translation that TREA gave that I think might have been...a bit...less than accurate," she said, trying not to insinuate that the mistranslation was somehow an error of his.

Szayel folded his arms across his chest. She really knew how to circle around the issue in order not to insult anyone—even if said person was her enemy.

"What was said and how was it translated?" he asked, adding a bit of weariness to his voice.

Orihime frowned, then sighed softly. "Well, basically Ulquiorra said that it was time for my meal. TREA translated it as..." She stopped, her face turning redder with each syllable she spoke. "I want to make love to you over and over again.'"

His smirk widened, both at her reaction and at TREA's translation. That sounded about right.

"I'm afraid to tell you that TREA's translation was indeed accurate, Orihime-san."

"Are you sure?" She wrung her hands together. "It can't be, Szayel-san. Ulquiorra doesn't even like to be in the same room with me, if he can help it. I mean, he doesn't even like me, let alone want to do...that."

"If that's what you want to believe," he said offhandedly, returning to the task of putting together the machine. He wasn't in the mood to argue with her.

Orihime moved to join him. "I hate just standing here. Are you sure there's nothing I can do to--?"

"Szayel Aporro-sama!" said Lumina and Verona in unison, bouncing their way over to them.

Thinking back on the incident, it could've been avoided. But everything happened so quickly, no one quite understood what happened. The fraccion had came out of nowhere and approached them so fast it had taken Orihime off-guard. Before anyone knew it, Lumina had gotten underfoot and Orihime tripped, putting her hands out in a vain attempt to lessen the impact of the fall. Time seemed to stop as her hands made contact with the ground.

For a few seconds, no one made a sound.

"Are you alright, Orihime-san?" Szayel asked, offering his hand to her while he glared at his two fraccion. They began to sweat profusely.

Orihime took his hand, laughing sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm okay, Szayel-san. I really should be more careful of where I—"

Suddenly, she let out a high pitched scream, the three Arrancar wincing at the sound, and dropped back to the ground, holding her right ankle. Tears started forming in her eyes.

"O-Ouch!" she said, through gritted teeth.

Szayel knelt down next to her. "Here, let me look at your ankle. I need to make sure it's not broken. You'll have to take off your boot."

She nodded, doing what he requested as he removed his gloves. He gently picked up her foot, his fingers moving over her skin, feeling the bones for any breaks. Orihime tried to focus on something other than the pain. She was confused by the gentle way his fingers ran over her skin. It seemed so contradictory to an Arrancar's nature.

"No broken bones, thankfully," he said while putting his gloves back on. Good thing, too. If one bone had been broken, he knew at least one individual would be more than willing to return the favor—and then some.

"That's a relief," she agreed, reaching for her boot. "What are we going to do now, Szayel-san? Is there a chair in here that I can sit on or something?"

Szayel took the footwear from her grasp. "Leave it off. You need to put as little pressure on that foot as possible." He placed the boot under his arm. "I think the best thing would be for you to rest. We should return you to your room."

He could barely keep the grin off his face. Only a few days ago he'd been thinking what excuse he could use to carry her and estimate her weight. What a fortunate turn of events! He supposed that meant those idiots were exempt from punishment—this time.

Noticing her trying to get back up, he shook his head. "Don't, Orihime-san. Here, I'll carry you back to your room."

"W-What? N-No, you can't, Szayel-san! Please! I-I'm too heavy for you to carry!"

"Nonsense," he laughed, waving his hand dismissively. "I may not look like the most physically-abled Espada, but my strength is still more than that of an average human." He reached over to her, placing his arm around her back for support, and then slid his other arm beneath her legs, picking her up with ease.

Orihime let out a strangled noise. Fearful that he would drop her, she grasped onto the top of his uniform for dear life.

Her blush deepened at their close proximity. It was too close, too warm, for her tastes. And here she had been under the impression that the Arrancar were physically colder than humans.

Approximately 44 kilograms, Szayel noted mentally, then walked over to the door.

"You two!" he yelled to his fraccion; Lumina and Verona stiffened at the sound of his voice. "Open the doors."

* * *

When they arrived at her room, Szayel placed her in one of the chairs and, after a moment, sat into the one on the other side of the table. Orihime's face was tinted pink, but she forced herself to look him.

"T-Thank you, Szayel-san," she said softly, her hands in her lap, playing with the material of her uniform.

"No need to thank me," he said, leaning over the table. "It was nothing." After all, it allowed him the opportunity to retrieve the last bit of descriptive statistics.

She frowned. "Yeah, but all the other Arrancar we passed were saying very...not nice things..."

He knew this, of course. He could hear what they were saying, perhaps even better than she could, but he ignored them. In the words of a certain Espada, they were nothing but trash. Their opinions had no value to him whatsoever.

They sat in silence. Szayel watched Orihime play with the butterfly pendant around her neck, listened to her steady breathing.

"Are you going to go back to your domain? Oh wait, that's right. You have to stay and watch me." She said the last part a bit distastefully.

"Yes, that's correct."

Another moment of silence.

"Hey, would you like to play a game with me?" Orihime asked, smiling. "You gave me some before, but I haven't had anyone to play with yet."

He smirked. "I take it Ulquiorra wasn't willing to indulge you?" She shook her head, her smile slipping just a bit. "All right, which game would you like to play?"

She pointed to a red and yellow box in the pile at the corner of the room. Standing up, he walked over and brought it back to the table, reading the lettering printed on the cardboard box. "Operation?"

"Yeah. I could have played this by myself, but it's more fun when you play with others. Anyway, when I saw it I knew you'd like this game," she chirped, taking the top off.

"What exactly is the purpose of this game?"

She placed the batteries included with the game into the back of the board, then started putting the little white plastic pieces into the holes. "Well, what you have to do is get as many of the white plastic pieces out of the 'patient' using the tweezers. You pick a card, and it will tell you which piece you need to get and how much it's worth if you remove it. The amount varies depending on the difficulty of retrieval. But if you miscalculate and the tweezers touch the metal, then the nose on the guy will light up and your turn is over. The person who makes the most money removing the pieces wins."

"I see. Why don't you go first, Orihime-san?" he offered. She nodded, picking up a card from the pile on the table, and read what she was supposed to remove first.

"So, Szayel-san," she said, attempting to get the spare ribs. "Can you take off your glasses?" Her face brightened as she removed the piece and placed it on the table. She reached over to pick up another card, this time getting the wrenched ankle card. "Wow, talk about a coincidence!"

"I'm afraid not," he said, as she removed the plastic piecve and grabbed another card. "It's the same with Ulquiorra's helmet. It's a part of us and, as a result, cannot be removed."

"Aww, really?" She frowned a bit, removing the charlie horse piece from the game, then picked up the card for the broken heart. "I wanted to see what I'd look like in Szayel-san's gla—"

BEEP!

Orihime jumped as the red nose on the game lit up. Sighing, she handed the tweezers to Szayel. "I guess that's the end of my turn. But really," she said as he picked up a card, carefully removing the butterfly in the stomach. "You can't remove your glasses at all?"

He chuckled lightly. "No, I really can't. It's all right, though. I think you look much better the way you are now."

She blushed at his comment. After removing the water in the knee, the Adam's Apple and the wishbone, it was still his turn; this time he was trying to get the bread basket.

"Wow, Szayel-san is really good at this game!" She smiled, her head resting in her hands.

"Of course, Orihime-san. This is much simpler than dissecting a real creature. What kind of a scientist would I be if I couldn't a handle a little—"

BEEP!

Silence filled the room as they stared, wide-eyed and confused, at the game board.

"What?! I didn't touch the metal, the stupid—!" he exclaimed, giving the game a dangerous glare.

Orihime giggled, placing a hand over her mouth. Szayel stopped yelling, his attention now on her. That's right. He still hadn't thought of a comparison for her laughter.

"You're so funny, Szayel-san!" she said in-between giggles. "It's okay. The game is always a bit temperamental."

She took the tweezers from his hand and took a card from off the table. He smirked at the calmness of her reaction.

Interesting.

* * *

In the end Szayel won, though it didn't help that whenever Orihime was trying to get her pieces, she would think of his outburst and start laughing, causing her to bump into the metal of the board. Before Ulquiorra arrived, she thanked him for playing the game with her.

"_You didn't even win," he pointed out, standing up from table._

"_I know." She shrugged. "That doesn't matter_—_whether you win or lose. It's about how much fun you had, and...I had a lot of fun. That's why I said thank you. You didn't have to play some stupid game with me."_

_He turned around to face her, smiling. "It was nothing, Orihime-san. I agree. It was fun."_

Szayel walked to the table where the clipboard with his notes was resting and added:

_Weight: Approximately 44 kilograms_

He let out a content sigh. Finally! Even if the method of obtaining the data was extremely convoluted.

He was nearly finished putting TREA back together when he heard a knock on the entrance door. Intrigued, he went over and opened it. Ulquiorra stood there, his hands in his pockets. Szayel could sense an undercurrent of irritation in the Cuarta Espada's reiatsu.

"Why is the woman's ankle injured?"

Szayel ran his fingers through his hair. "If you're implying that I injured her and, consequently, should be removed from my post, then you'll be sorely disappointed. Orihime tripped over one of my fraccion."

Ulquiorra glared at him for a moment before nodding, apparently accepting his answer. "Oh, yes. One more thing," he said, as he walked away. "I will not be on any missions for a while, so your assistance will not be needed."

Closing the door, a large grin formed on Szayel's face. That was fine with him. It gave him more time to work on his next experiment.


	6. Meeting the Family

"Huh? What did you say, Ulquiorra?" Orihime asked, looking up from the book held in her hands.

He suppressed a sigh, slightly irritated; Ulquiorra didn't like repeating himself. "Woman, put the book down for a minute and pay attention." He waited while she marked her place and set the book on the table. "Good. As I was saying, I will not have any missions for this next month, so it will not be necessary for you to be under the Octava Espada's care." He grimaced inwardly at his choice of words.

"Really?" she asked. "Why?"

He stared at her blankly, not sure what she was asking.

"What I mean is, why are you not going on any missions for a month?"

He was tempted to shrug, the same way he saw her shrug from time to time when she didn't know the answer to one of Szayel's or Aizen's questions, but crushed the urge before it came to fruition. "It's not important for us to understand Aizen-sama's reasoning, only to accept it."

Of course, Orihime thought. Aizen's word was law to him, wasn't it? She glanced at the book on the table, reading the title in her head. Then she smiled, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, if that's the case, I guess that means we have some time to get to know each other better, huh?"

Her question was met with silence.

"Ulquiorra?"

"Hm," he said finally, closing his eyes in an almost weary fashion, though she couldn't really understand why. "If you will not be needing anything else, I will leave you until dinner."

Somehow she knew his words were not negotiable in any way. "Okay. Um," she said, as he was headed for the door. "N-Nothing. Forget it."

Nodding, he exited the room. As soon as the door was shut, Ulquiorra allowed himself to sigh. This was going to be a long month.

* * *

If Szayel wasn't obviously up to something devious in his newfound fascination with Orihime, Ulquiorra would've applauded him for the patience he possessed in dealing with her. Honestly, how many questions could one human possibly think of?

And why exactly was it important for her to know why he kept his hands in his pockets all the time? He didn't spend time thinking about it. It was just something he did.

The questions had started the day he announced he wouldn't have any missions for a month, and they hadn't let up since. All sorts of questions. A select handful of them were, arguably, deep and profound, and Ulquiorra allowed himself to indulge her in an elaborate answer.

But other questions were not.

"_Ulquiorra, are there make up stores in Hueco Mundo? Or is it some Arrancar's mission to go and buy it in the human world?" Orihime asked one day, while eating her meal._

"_What?" He stood next to her table, his hands out of his pockets for once, folded across his chest._

_Orihime shrugged. "I was just wondering because of your makeup. I mean, it's a really nice shade of green, and I wanted to know where you got it because if it is from the human word, that means there's a chance that I could find that shade of green, and personally, I think it would look really nice—"_

_Ulquiorra held his hand up to stop her. "You're not making any sense."_

"_Your tear marks, of course," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world._

_He blinked once. "No."_

"_No...what?"_

_Taking her wrist, he brought her hand to his face. He positioned her fingers, letting them trace the outline of the marks, then released his grip on her arm. She looked down at her finger._

"_As you can see," he said, a bit irritated, "they are not make up."_

After about a week of her inane questions, he eventually started answering all her questions with either a "yes" or "no," which, for some of them, didn't really make sense.

"_Ulquiorra, why is the moon here in Hueco Mundo reversed from the moon in my world?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Uh, that wasn't really a yes or no question, you know."_

But by this point, Ulquiorra couldn't have cared less. The most frequent question he received, though, was:

"_Can we go out of this room for a little bit? Please?"_

Orihime asked that question at least once a day, but his answer never changed:

"_No."_

He had to admit, a small part of him admired her perseverance. A very small part. But when it came down to it, her refusal to drop the issue was only another source of irritation to him. He couldn't help feeling that this was Szayel's fault. If he hadn't let her leave the room to begin with...

He allowed his thoughts to trailed off, wondering what he could do to Szayel to "thank" him the next time they met up.

It was the last day of his month break from missions, and while he hated to admit it, some part of him was almost...disheartened that his time with her would come to an end. Ulquiorra was confused, to say the least. He should've been relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with her incessant chatter; but for some reason, he wasn't. He frowned deeply. Perhaps this was because he knew where she would be returning once he started his missions again.

No point in dwelling on it, he decided, his hand on the door handle. The reason he felt unnerved was because he knew Szayel was up to something. That was all.

Opening the door, he wasn't surprised to see Orihime at the table reading a large book. She'd been reading it since the beginning of the month-off time period, and she was still only half-way finished.

"Hi, Ulquiorra," she said, marking her place. "What's up?"

He didn't answer. There was a brief moment of silence which he relished and she despised.

She looked down at her hands nervously, then cleared her throat. "So, this is your last day before Aizen...-san sends you on missions again. Do you have one assigned to you already?"

"Yes," he said, still standing in the door-frame, the light from outside the room pouring in.

Orihime nodded. "Oh, I see. At least you won't have to deal with me and my crazy questions anymore, huh? Actually," she said quickly, "don't answer that. Look, I know I've asked you this every day for a month and your answer never changed, but I figured I'd ask you anyway. You know, just so we could have a perfect record of you telling me no." She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Can we go outside this room for a bit?"

He opened the door wider. "Yes."

"Huh?" She blinked, her head tilted in confusion. "Wait, did you say...yes? But I thought you didn't want me to go_—_"

"If you want to leave your room, you'd better do so before I change my mind."

She jumped up from the chair and quickly headed over to his side, smiling as he closed the door behind them. "So, where are we going? Can we go see Szayel-san? It's been so long since I've seen him! I wonder how he's_—_"

"No. He is preoccupied with something at the present time."

"Oh," she said, deflating at his words. "Then where are we going?"

They started walking in the opposite direction of Szayel's domain, Ulquiorra a step or two ahead of her. "We are headed for a room the Espada congregate to when they are not on missions and do not want to be in their own domains."

Orihime perked up a little. "Kind of like a common room of sorts, right?" He nodded. "Wow! How many Espada do you think will be there? Oh, they wouldn't do anything to hurt, would they?"

He looked back at her as she half-walked, half-ran to keep up with him. Was it necessary that she ask multiple questions at once? "I do not know. I'm almost certain Stark will be there with his fraccion, if he has returned from his mission already. There's a good chance that Barragan and Halibel will also be there. No matter who is there, they will not do anything to harm you. If they did, they would have to deal with Aizen-sama's wrath."

Silently, he hoped Zommari would not be present; all of the Septima Espada's "amor" talk grated on his nerves. He could only imagine what would happen if he and Orihime ever met. He shuddered inwardly at the thought of her ranting about "amor" this and "amor" that.

They rounded a corner and walked into the third room on the right. Much to their surprise, all the Espada, minus Szayel and Zomari, were in the room chatting with each other. Their talking ceased the moment they stepped into the room. The Espada stared at the pair with suspicious or amused looks.

"Hey, Ulquiorra! What have you got there?" Nnoitra asked, breaking the silence as he stood. "Ya finally let Pet-sama outta her cage for a bit, huh?"

Ulquiorra glared at his comment, noticing the way Orihime stiffened. "Nnoitra Jiruga, Quinta Espada." He turned to her. "If you ever encounter him by yourself, do not hesitate to destroy him."

"Hey! What the hell kind of an introduction is that?" Nnoitra protested.

Halibel grabbed him by the arm, pulling him down into the seat. "Quiet. As if yours was any better."

Aaroniero stood up, the odd gurgling behind his mask getting louder. The other Espada's eyes follow him curiously as he made his way to the door. "Too bright," muttered the deeper voice of the two, passing Orihime and Ulquiorra. "It's like sunlight. It hurts!" the high-pitched voice moaned as they exited.

"Aaronniero Arruruerie, Novena Espada. You probably will not encounter him again. He tends to remain in his own domain," Ulquiorra said, walking into the room and sitting down on one of the couches.

Orihime stared at the other Espada warily, most of whom already resumed their conversations, and sat down next to him. "I see. But what did he mean? What was 'too bright'?"

Ulquiorra shook his head. "Perhaps the light in the room was too much for him. His domain is not as well lit as most areas in Las Noches," he said, though he had a sneaking suspicion it had nothing to do with the lighting, and everything to do with the young woman sitting next to him.

After a few moments of watching the Espada talk and glance back at them, she said, "Are we just going to sit here and watch them all day, or...?"

"No." His eyes narrowed when his gaze fell on the Sexta Espada, who was currently talking with Nnoitra, most likely about fighting. "I brought you here so you would know, in the event that you were to meet up with any of the Espada by yourself, which you should be particularly wary of."

"Why would I be seeing any of them by myself?"

"You never know," he said cryptically. He knew there were some that were more likely to arrange for the two to meet "accidentally." "I'll start from the highest ranked and work my way down. Stark is the Primera Espada." He looked to the brown-haired male taking up one of the lounges and the young girl sitting next to him.

"I didn't know Arrancar could sleep," Orihime said, watching the even rise and fall of his chest.

"It's not necessary. Next is Barragan, the Segunda Espada." Ulquiorra turned his gaze to the old-looking Arrancar, who was currently staring at the others like a grumpy grandfather stuck babysitting his grandchildren. "And Halibel is the Tercer Espada."

"Wow! There's a female Espada and that high ranked?" Orihime said, taking in the beautiful dark-skinned woman sitting next to Nnoitra. "Amazing! Say, is she and that other Espada, you know, together?"

His train of thought crashed momentarily. "There have been rumors, but not that I am aware of, " he said in a clipped manner, resisting the urge to shudder at thought of Nnoitra with anyone. "These three will not harm you."

Ulquiorra was already feeling uncomfortable being there for as long as they'd been, so he forced himself to finish quickly. "Grimmjow Jagerjacques you are already somewhat acquainted with. You healed his arm," he said, a bit accusingly. "He's the Sexta Espada. The Septima Espada, Zommari Leroux, is not present. The Decima Espada is Yami." He turned his gaze to the larger man laughing with Nnoitra and Grimmjow.

"I remember him," she recalled, scratching the back of her head. "He's the one you ordered to kill me...that one...time."

Awkward silence fell between them before he cleared his throat. "You should avoid Nnoitra, Grimmjow, and Zommari at all costs. As I told you earlier with Nnoitra, do not hesitate to destroy them."

She nodded, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. "I know you said that, but...I'm not sure how likely it is that I could destroy someone as high ranked as Nnoitra-san. I'm not even sure I could handle_—_"

"Hey, Ulquiorra!" Yami called out, heading over to them. "Aizen-sama is calling a meeting. We need to get going. You know how he 'rewards' us when we're late."

He nodded in thanks and stood. "Yes. Let Aizen-sama know I will be late a few minutes, as I am returning the woman to her room."

Orihime frowned at his title for her, but said nothing as she followed him out into the hallway. She was out of breath by the time they got back to her room, forced to keep up with the fast pace of the Cuarta Espada.

"Thank you for letting me out and allowing me to meet the others, Ulquiorra," she said, when she finally caught her breath.

"It served its purpose. Now, if you will excuse me," he said, his hand on the doorknob.

"Say, Ulquiorra?"

He responded to her question with a light hmm. He knew Aizen-sama would not be pleased if he was late to a meeting, but he already let him know through Yami that he would be delayed. That was, if that idiot relayed the message to him.

"I really meant 'thank you,'" she said, and smiled. "It's kind of weird, but in a way it was almost like you brought me over to meet your family." Ulquiorra stared at her blankly. "Anyway, you should probably go on to that meeting, huh? I'll see you later?"

"Yes," he said after a beat, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

A day later, Ulquiorra announced he would be leaving for a mission.

Orihime nodded, not sure what else to say. After a moment, the door creaked open. She was greeted with the sight of a familiar face.

"Szayel-san!" she said, smiling brightly. She stood up and made her way over to the door. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Indeed, it has," he agreed, smirking. "Shall we, then? I'm sure you're sick of being cooped up in this room for that whole time." He closed the door behind them, and they headed towards his domain.

"Actually," she said, walking next him at a steady pace, "Ulquiorra did let me out of the room that one day."

"Really?" Szayel asked, genuine curiosity lacing his voice. "That's unusual of him."

"I know, but he did. He took me to your_—_well, he didn't really have a name for it, but I guess it would be like a break room or common room of sorts. And I got to meet the other Espada."

He nodded. "I see. It was so you would know which Espada to avoid and which would be...'safer,' for lack of a better term, if you were to meet up with them on your own."

Her eyes widened. "That's right!" she said in surprise, causing one of the Arrancar in the hall to jump. "How did you know?"

"Ulquiorra's motivations are easy to figure out," he said, chuckling.

They continued walking in silence. The only noise in the hall was the reverberating of their clicking heels and the low mutterings of the sparse Arrancar.

"I really missed you, Szayel-san," Orihime said out-of-the-blue. "I-I mean, I missed talking to you." She blushed, the realization of her first statement sinking in.

"That's very kind of you to say." Grinning, he asked, "Do you not enjoy the company of the Cuarta Espada?"

"It's not that I don't," she said, averting his gaze. "It's just that...you can only reach out to someone for so long before you realize they're not going to reach back."

Szayel raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, Orihime-san? Ulquiorra answers all your questions. Well, for the most part."

"That's not the same," she insisted, shaking her head. "It's like Ulquiorra is out at sea, and I'm in the lifeboat trying to save him. Me asking him a question is like...throwing one of those life saver rings to him."

"Okay." He wasn't quite sure where she was going with her metaphor. "That would mean that him answering your questions would be analogous to grabbing onto the lifebuoy."

"But it wouldn't," she said, melancholic. "Him answering my questions is the same as him acknowledging the life saver's presence."

Szayel frowned, his arms folded over his chest. "Then what action would be similar to grabbing out for the life saver?"

"Asking me a question. A real one, not a rhetorical one, and not one to ask for clarification. Something that let's him know more about me, even if its something silly like 'What's your favorite color?'" she said, noticing that he was about to say something. "Everything he tells me sounds like an order."

"And that's not reaching out," he finished for her. She nodded. "Then using your metaphor, Ulquiorra recognizes the lifebuoy but would rather drown than take hold of it."

Orihime smiled sadly. "You can only throw them that life preserver so many times before you realize that if you keep doing it, you're just going to get hurt. So, in the end, you have to pull away in order to save yourself from more pain."

A slight pause.

"Are we talking about the lifeboat metaphor still or real life?"

"Hey! I was being serious, you know," she said, pointing a finger at him.

He chuckled, amused by her irritation. "So was I."

Orihime laughed softly, then shook her head. "I don't know." She looked down at her feet. "You're the only one who has reached out. I mean, I haven't spent time with the other Espada, not really, but you actually ask me questions and seem interested in what I have to say. It's...a nice feeling."

Szayel looked at her curiously, like he was about to comment, when she said, "This conversation is getting a bit too depressing, don't you think? What about you, Szayel-san? What have you been up to since the last time we've seen each other? I wanted to visit you when Ulquiorra and I went to the common room, but he told me you were very busy with something."

He nodded, opening the door to his domain. "He was correct. I was working on something very important." They walked into his domain, the door shutting behind them.

"Really? I wish I could see it!" she exclaimed, before she could stop herself. "Oh, but if it's something important, then I guess that means I can't. It's probably something for Aizen...-san, right?"

"Actually, no," he said, though to which statement she wasn't sure. He motioned for her to follow. Catching up to him, they walked down one of the halls and turned the corner, standing in front of a random door that looked no different from any of the others.

"Here we are," he said, and opened the door. Placing a hand on the small of her back, Szayel nudged her into the room. "Enjoy, Orihime-san."


	7. I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

_One month earlier..._

Szayel walked the halls of his domain, Ulquiorra's words still echoing in his head. A whole month of no missions, huh? He couldn't help wondering what the Cuarta Espada had offered in exchange for that little arrangement.

"Szayel Aporro-sama!" Lumina said, Verona following close behind. "The materials you required. We obtained them for you!" They stopped a few feet in front of him, pride shining in their eyes at having completed their task.

He smirked. "Is that so? You got everything, right?" They nodded enthusiastically. "Where are they?"

"In the spare room you told us to put them in. But we still don't understand why they're so necessary for your experiment. Hey, stop that!" Verona said pointedly to Lumina, who was poking him in the side.

He moved past his fraccion, ignoring their antics, and headed to the room where his next experiment would take place. Opening the door, he found his fraccion had indeed completed everything he ordered. They had even opened up the floor, exposing the natural sandy ground of the desert.

He switched on the light and looked around the room. Now, where had they placed the—Ah, there they were. He found all his supplies in a corner of the room, just waiting to be used. He smiled at the wide variety. Picking one up, he began moving it to the center of the room.

"Plants? What, are you going to change professions and become the gardener of Las Noches?"

Szayel clenched his teeth together, and then turned around. "How the hell did you get in here, Nnoitra?"

Nnoitra leaned on the door-frame and snorted. "Those idiot fraccion of yours let me in, obviously. It wasn't that hard to convince 'em. 'Oh, but I need to talk to him. It's a matter of the utmost urgency. Blah blah blah.' You really should train 'em better, scientist-san."

"Utmost urgency, huh? I didn't realize you knew such big words," Szayel said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Nnoitra glared, pushing himself from the door-frame, and headed towards him. "You're avoiding the issue at hand here. What the hell are you doing with all these plants?" He crinkled his nose distastefully at the tree Szayel was dragging to the center of the room.

"It's for an experiment, of course. What else could it be for?" the Octava Espada asked, kneeling down and starting to dig a hole in the sand. After a few seconds of silence and no response from Nnoitra, he looked up. He was greeted with the sight of a large knowing grin plastered across other's face.

That was not a good sign.

"For Pet-sama, right? Why, Szayel! I never knew you were such a romantic." He pointed to the other flowers still in the corner. "I'm sure you'll give me some bullshit reason why you're doing all this, though."

Szayel ignored his comment, placing the tree in the hole and covering it with the sand. He took out a device from his pocket and pushed a button. "'Pet-sama', as you call her, became upset when she was taken outside of Las Noches and came to the realization she was the only living thing in Hueco Mundo. While she was outside, she created drawings in the sand of a sun and flowers and trees. As a result, it is my belief, my hypothesis, that if she were exposed to these things here in Las Noches, she would exhibit a happy or elated response."

Nnoitra raised an eyebrow. "You couldn't just take her to the human world and let her see plants that way? And why do you care if she's happy or not?"

"No, I can't take her there, for two reasons: One, Aizen-sama would never allow it, and two, there are too many extraneous variables that would have to be considered. At least this is a controlled environment."

After a few minutes, the tree wilted completely. The leaves turned brown and formed a pile around the bark skeleton.

"Hmm, that was a lot shorter than I thought it would last," Szayel noted, returning the device to his pocket. He started taking the plant out from the ground.

"What did you do?" Nnoitra asked, watching him toss the now-dead plant to the side.

Szayel wiped his hands clean. "Nothing."

"Nothing my ass! The plant died minutes after you pushed the button on that device of yours. You obviously did something."

Szayel took the device out and tossed it to him. "I seriously doubt a stopwatch could've killed a plant. As I said, I did nothing. Plants from the human world cannot survive in Hueco Mundo, most likely because of the reiastu-laced environment." He sighed heavily, noticing the other plants were wilting as well. "I suppose that means I have my work cut out for me." He grabbed a small flowering plant and headed for the door.

"Hey! You never answered my question!" Nnoitra pointed out, following him out into the hall.

"I know. I was ignoring you," Szayel said, holding the plant in one hand, while closing the door behind them with the other. "It's not a need to see her happy that drives me to do all this; I don't care if she's happy or not. It's the need to know why she reacts the way she does. Her reactions are...abnormal."

He turned on his heel and started walking to his main laboratory. "I think you can find the way out on your own, Nnoitra. Don't let the door hit you on your way out."

* * *

"Finally, I'm done!" Szayel rubbed his eyes and patted himself on the back, metaphorically speaking. "It only took four weeks to find the weak spots in all the plants' DNA, and genetically modify them so they would only need reiatsu and artificial lighting to survive, as well as altering their maturation cycle so they would all blossom at the same time."

As it turned out, altering the DNA of grass and the flowers only took two weeks total. The trees, on the other hand, were not as easy, but he knew he would break through eventually. It did, however, require his fraccion to make a few trips to the human world to obtain more materials.

All he needed to do now was plant them, and he'd be set. He removed his gloves and, putting on a lab apron, called to his many fraccion. He placed the plants in their hands, threatening them with a severe punishment if a plant was so much as bent. Taking the last one he walked into the room, nodding when he saw the trees and flowers placed in a corner. He took the first unsuccessful tree experiment from a few weeks ago and tossed it out a side door, into the barren environment of Hueco Mundo. Then he looked out one of the windows; a couple of small hollow-lizards inspecting the tree curiously.

Just in time. Ulquiorra's mission-free month was coming to an end. And before he forgot...

He walked to the room with his clipboard in it and started writing:

_Experiment 3: Exposure to other living organisms  
Methods: An environment was created to replicate the natural environment of the participant using various flora and fauna. The different types are listed on the next page. The plants were genetically modified in order for them to survive the harsh environment of Hueco Mundo, as well as to synchronize their maturation cycles. No other changes were made.  
Null hypothesis: There will be no change in the participant's behavior.  
Alternative Hypothesis: The participant will exhibit behavior characteristic of happiness and/or elation._

Once he was finished, he took an orange handkerchief from his pocket, tying it in such way to keep his hair from getting in his face while he worked. He planted the trees first, then the flowers, taking time to consider which plant would go where, so as to achieve the most naturalistic-looking environment. After a few hours, it was nearly complete; he added a few finishing touches.

"Szayel-sama?" Verona called from the door frame, looking extremely nervous. "I hate to interrupt you, but there is an Espada meeting you need to attend."

Szayel looked up, brushing some of the soil from his hands onto the apron. "Fine. When is it?"

Verona scuffed the floor with his shoe before muttering, "Now."

"What? Why didn't you tell me this earlier, you idiot?" He pushed the fraccion from the door, then kicked him down the hall.

A "But we told you two weeks ago!" came from the Arrancar skidding down the hall, not that Szayel made any notice of it. He sonido-ed from his domain to the Espada meeting room in under ten seconds, relieved that both Aizen and Ulquiorra were not yet present. He walked to his seat and sat down, ignoring the stares and snickers of the other Espada.

"Hey, Szayel. Nice headgear. I never knew orange would be a good color for you," Grimmjow said, a small snort coming out while the other Espada burst out into laughter. Even Halibel's face relaxed in such a way that was different from her usual stony expression.

The Octava Espada's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Suddenly, the realization hit him—the handkerchief. He pulled it from his head and placed it on the table, the pink strands framing his face. Yami leaned over a few seats away to get a better look at the bright piece of cloth, while Nnoitra put his elbows on the table and leaned forward.

"I guess everything is going well with your little gard—HEY!" he grunted, as he was swiftly kicked in the shin. "What the hell was that for?"

"Oh dear! Was that your leg, Nnoitra?" Szayel said, pushing up his glasses with his middle finger. "I really must be more careful, shouldn't I?"

Nnoitra slammed his hands against the table. "Szayel, you..."

"Whatever it is you two are bickering about can wait," Aizen said calmly as he entered the room, garnering the attention of all the Espada present.

"Aizen-sama!" Yami bellowed, standing up. "Ulquiorra said he'll be late because he's returning the woman to her room. He told me to tell you."

"Thank you, Yami," Aizen said, sitting down while motioning for him to do the same. A few seconds later the door opened, and Ulquiorra made his way to his seat next to Aizen. "Now that everyone is here, we can begin our meeting."

* * *

After about an hour, the meeting concluded. Everyone headed back to their respective domains.

Walking up to the Cuarta Espada, his hands behind his back, Szayel said, "Did you have fun spending quality time with our precious Hime?"

Ulquiorra said nothing, instead choosing to glare at him. "Aizen-sama has already assigned me a mission, starting tomorrow," he said finally, then stood and left.

Initially, Szayel grinned at the thought. But now that he was in front of her room, he wasn't sure how she'd react after a month. His hand rested on the door handle, contemplating all the possible reactions he would get, from none at all to relief to—He stopped himself, pushing the thought far from his mind.

That was ridiculous.

With the slight creaking of the door, Orihime had called out his name, her face lighting up as she dashed to him. She commented on their long absence from each other's presence, and he agreed—but it was worth it.

They exited the room and walked to his domain. She told him of how Ulquiorra let her out of her room for a while. That news came as a bit of a shock to him, considering how adamant the Cuarta Espada had been on keeping her in her room a little over a month ago. But he realized it was probably because Ulquiorra wanted her to know which Espada were particularly dangerous. Szayel scoffed inwardly. His motivations were easy too figure out.

There was a long pause before she blurted out, "I really missed you, Szayel-san." His brain paused for a moment, trying to take in what she'd just said. "I-I mean, I missed talking with you."

"That's very kind of you to say," he said, ignoring the foreign feeling of regret that passed through him. He decided to turn the conversation in another, more comfortable, direction. "Do you not enjoy the company of the Cuatra Espada?"

Of course, he had no idea that one little question would lead to a weird, somewhat convoluted conversation involving boats, lifebuoys and other unusual things that only she would think of, and how they compared to reaching out for someone. But as odd as it was, he understood what she was trying to say.

"You can only throw them that life preserver so many times before you realize that if you keep doing it, you're just going to get hurt. So, in the end, you have to pull away in order to save yourself from more pain," she said, a melancholic smile on her face, a distant look in her eyes.

Szayel thought of the change in Ulquiorra's behavior since he'd been assigned her guard. It seemed her powers of deduction were a bit off in this case. In his own way, he had been reaching out to her. It just wasn't as apparent as she would prefer.

"Are we talking about the lifeboat metaphor still or real life?" he joked, noticing the change of demeanor from sadness to mock-irritation. She pointed her finger at him, as if it could do him any damage, and then laughed.

"I don't know," Orihime said honestly. "You're the only one who has reached out. I mean, I haven't spent any time with the other Espada, not really, but you actually ask me questions and seem interested in what I have to say. It's...a nice feeling."

Szayel looked at her curiously, noting her content smile. If she only knew.

He was about to change the subject when she interrupted him, asking what he'd been doing for the last month. It was a rather nice segue, if he thought about it, as he teased her imagination with the possibilities of what he could have been working on. "I was working on something very important."

Her face brightened up for a second time as she exclaimed her desire to see it. He smirked at her enthusiasm, taking her to the room that had taken him the whole month to finish.

"Here we are," he said, and opened the door. Placing a hand on the small of her back, Szayel lightly nudged her into the room. "Enjoy, Orihime-san."

Looking at the room again, Szayel was rather proud of the work he had done. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought they'd found a rip in the fabric of time and space itself, one that opened up into some unimaginable paradise.

Orihime gasped softly, placing a hand over her mouth as she took everything in. The place was so bright that, when she looked up, she half-expected to see the sun shining down on her. She didn't, of course, but there was a bright blue sky scattered with a few white clouds. If she didn't know any better, she would've sworn the sky above her was real.

On the ground was a carpet of green grass; she was tempted to pull off her boots, to feel the lushness of it beneath her feet. And a few trees were scattered around the place. She couldn't help the swell of happiness when she saw a couple of cherry trees, even though she knew back home they wouldn't be in bloom.

The air was sweet with the perfume of blossoming flowers of varying sizes and colors, though most of them were a shade of red, orange or purple. Some of the flowers were foreign to her. In the very back was a group of roses in various shades, from red—intertwined with some white—to a pale pink, and even some that were yellow with pale pink tips.

Orihime turned around to face the Octava Espada. "How? How were you able to...?"

Szayel smiled, his hands behind his back. "It wasn't easy, I can tell you that for certain," he said, following her as she walked around the room.

"I'm just a bit confused," she said, minding the plants, so as not to step on any of them. "I thought there were no plants in Hueco Mundo. Not any that are alive, anyway. And even if you did bring some plants from the human world, how are they able to survive?"

"I genetically modified the plants, so they would rely on the reiatsu in the environment and the artificial lighting for their source of energy instead of water and sunlight, both of which are rather scarce, as you are well aware."

She nodded. Her gaze shifted between the tall trees surrounding them and the wide variety of flowers. "Which were the hardest?"

"The grass was the easiest. The trees were the most difficult," he said, warily eyeing an oak and willow tree close to them. "The flowers, for the most part, weren't too difficult, though a dozen or so varieties proved to be more problematic than the rest."

She tilted her head to the side. "Really? Which ones?"

"Well, for example," he said, placing a hand on her back as he moved her to a red flower, "the _dianthus caryophyllus_, more commonly know as the carnation, was a bit of a challenge. Likewise," he continued, taking a few steps until they were in front of a sweet-smelling white flower, "it took me a fair amount of tries to get the _gardenia jasminoides _to take root—in a manner of speaking."

She laughed softly at his attempt at a pun. He smirked in response.

"The hardest were the roses by far," he finished, as they headed to the back of the room. "Especially the pink and white one. I never figured out why."

Orihime stepped closer to the roses and knelt down, feeling the velvety soft texture of their petals between her fingers. How much time had passed since she had seen something alive, let alone such a great variety? The feeling inside threatened to overwhelm her.

Szayel watched her with a careful eye, taking note of her body posture, the way her fingers lingered over the delicate rose, and anything else that could possibly be relevant. Any moment now she would turn around, and there would be a huge grin on her face—or some other reaction normally associated with happiness. Then, finally, his curiosity for this facet of her personage would be quelled.

He saw her pull her hand close to her chest, and heard a small sniffle. He brushed it off as his imagination. But then he heard it again, much louder than the first time. Confused, he knelt beside her.

"Are you crying?" She didn't respond. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "It wasn't my intention to upset you, Orihime-san."

She turned around, unshed tears shining in her eyes. Before he knew what had happened, he felt her arms wrap around him, her head resting in the crook of his neck. Szayel stiffened at the foreign feeling of her warm body flush against him, his arms hanging limply by his sides. His brain tried to process what was going on, to take note of things that could be added later to her file, but he found himself unable to do so. He was too distracted by the sudden sensory overload.

"I'm not sad. I'm not," Orihime said shakily, a few tears running down her face. After a minute, Szayel's arms moved up to pat her back awkwardly. The light patting was almost hypnotic, but she forced herself to pull away. She looked up at him, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Szayel-san. I didn't mean to do that. It's just that sometimes when you're so happy, that feeling wells up inside you so much that it overwhelms you. And then the only thing you can do is cry." She laughed sheepishly, wiping the fallen tears from her cheeks.

"You don't have to apologize," he said, and offered his hand. He pulled her up to a standing position. "I was simply worried and...confused." Once again, she'd exhibited a reaction he had definitely not expected.

She nodded, smiling softly as she stood next to him. She pulled on his sleeve lightly. "Hey, that tree over there. What is it? I've never seen it before."

Szayel knew what she was trying to do and decided to indulge her, just this once.

"That plant?" He walked over to the tree in question, Orihime at his side. "I believe that is _delonix regia_, the royal poinciana."

"Really? Tell me more."


	8. Laughter in the Rain

"Szayel isn't doing anything to you, is he?" Ulquiorra asked. He stood in the door-frame before he left for yet another mission.

Orihime's eyes widened. "Eh? Wait, did—did you ask me something, Ulquiorra?"

To say she was surprised would've been an understatement. This was the first time since she'd arrived in Hueco Mundo that he had asked her a question. And she didn't have to start the conversation or anything!

Ulquiorra shook his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Nothing."

She opened her mouth, about to call out to him, when he shut the door with a soft click. She stared at the door and sighed. "I guess it's better than nothing," she said, sitting down on the couch listlessly. "He seems to be making an effort to reach out to me. More so than before, anyway."

"It's always baby-steps, as you humans would put it, when it comes to him."

"That's for sure," she said with a slight smile, turning to the door. She jumped up and sprinted to the door, where Szayel was standing.

"Shall we be going? I have a surprise for you today, Orihime-san," he said, shutting the door behind him.

She looked at him curiously as they fell in step. "Really? I'm not sure it's fair for you to be giving me so many surprises, Szayel-san. I don't really deserve them. I didn't even thank you properly for the last surprise you gave me."

Orihime thought back to a few days ago, when he revealed the beautiful garden he'd created just for her. She blushed when she remembered the way she had...

He waved his hand carelessly. "It was nothing."

Though a better explanation of her behavior from a few days ago would've been more than thanks enough. He thought back to his notes and how, yet again, both hypotheses were proven false because of her unusual response to the environment. Just what would it take for her to exhibit a normal, elated response?

"Szayel?"

He suddenly stopped, turning to her with an interested and confused face. Orihime never called him by his name without a "san" attached at the end of it. For her to start now was very...intriguing. He wondered what she wanted, if anything.

"Yes?"

Perhaps she had figured out that everything was a facade—an experiment and nothing more. An unnamed feeling rushed through him, almost like a mixture of relief, pride, and anxiety.

Orihime shook her head. "I was just trying out your name without the formal title. I didn't realize until now that I was still calling you 'Szayel-san,' even though we're much better acquainted with each other. I mean, I started calling Ulquiorra 'Ulquiorra' after only a few days, so it's kind of weird that I still call you 'Szayel-san.' Don't you think?"

Szayel sighed inwardly, relieved. So that was all it was. "Yes, I suppose so."

They resumed their walk to his domain.

"You can call me Orihime again, if you want," she said, adding a little bit of a skip to her step. "If I'm calling you Szayel, it only makes sense."

"What a relief that will be. I never could understand what was so important about those formalities your language seems to insist upon," he said, before he could stop himself.

She shrugged. "I don't know why. I think it's a relief to have that system of formality. But then, I'm so used to it by now. I'd prefer it to English, that's for sure. Having no real formal titles or anything is a bit weird to think about."

"Perhaps, but at least there's no hidden disdain. If you don't like someone, you don't have to act all prim and proper, and then talk about said person behind their back. You can say to their face that you hate them. The formalities you use are just another form of deceit," he said, opening the door to his domain. Szayel noticed her eyes widen at his comment and resisted the urge to smack himself.

Orihime looked up at him, her eyes shining with realization. "I never thought about it that way before. But now that you mention it, it kind of is, isn't it? And to think, if you agreed with me or just dropped the subject, I would've never come to consider this."

"That's a very optimistic view you have," he said, relieved he hadn't messed up the bonds that had formed between him and his participant.

She laughed nervously. "I'm afraid so. Anyway," she said, apparently thinking that it was time for a change in conversation—not that he disagreed with her in that respect, "what is it you wanted to show me?"

They walked to the the end of the hall and entered his main laboratory.

"Of course. How could I forget? You remember a small cube, a translating machine whose life was cut somewhat short by a certain Espada lacking any sense of humor?"

She giggled. "You mean TREA?"

"The one and the same." He motioned for her to come near the pedestal in the middle of the room, currently covered with a white sheet. "It took me a while to put it back together, but here it is." Pulling the sheet off he revealed the white cube, shiny and new, as if Ulquiorra hadn't ceroed and smashed it into a million pieces.

Orihime gasped. "Oh my, Szayel!" She took a step closer to inspect his handiwork. If she hadn't known better, she would've thought it was brand new. There wasn't a scratch to be seen on its white casing. "TREA looks amazing!"

"Hey there, Orihime-chan," came a voice from inside the cube.

Orihime's eyes widened, and she jumped back, bumping into Szayel. He placed his hands on her forearms, slowly moving her to the machine. "Not to worry. This is perfectly normal. Well, it is now." He released her, and she turned to him inquisitively.

"What do you mean? I-I don't ever remember it being like this before. I thought it was just a translator." She glanced at the cube. "What happened?"

A small sigh escaped his lips. "It would seem that when Ulquiorra ceroed it, some of the hardware and wiring melted together. There wasn't anything I could do about that. Personally, I didn't even think it would work, but I tried putting it together anyway. Lo and behold, TREA still worked, but with some new...personality quirks."

"More like gained a personality. Not that I'm complaining," she added, holding her hands up defensively. "It's just that I've never heard of a machine with this kind of a personality before."

He shrugged. "At least it offers more in the way of conversation than my fraccion do." Szayel thought about those idiots, particularly Lumina and Verona, and frowned deeply.

"That's right," she said softly. "You're usually alone when you're not watching me. But then, I doubt I'm much better to talk to than your fraccion."

"You shouldn't compare yourself to the likes of them, Orihime," he said, an unusual edge to his voice that she'd never heard before. It wasn't an angry tone, just firmer than she was used to.

She bit her lower lip nervously. "Oh."

He sighed, his fingers rubbing his temples. He hadn't meant to be so firm with her, but it grated on his nerves to hear her belittle herself. He couldn't figure out why.

"He just means you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Szayel-sama really enjoys the time he spends with you. Heck, I think it's the highlight of his week!" TREA said, startling Orihime from her daze. "So, Orihime-chan, if you aren't busy later on, how about the two of us get together or something?"

Szayel narrowed his eyes. "I think that's enough out of you."

"Oh, you're no fun Szayel-sama! You just want to keep Orihime-chan all for yourse—"

But TREA wasn't able to finish the sentence. Szayel had taken that exact moment to switch it off. Orihime looked at the cube, then at its creator.

"I guess that cero changed it more than you originally thought."

He nodded. "It would appear so."

* * *

"Szayel, does it ever rain in Hueco Mundo?" Orihime asked, breathing in the sweet smell of the flowers surrounding them.

After the strange TREA incident, she felt like she needed a breath of fresh air—or at least, the closest she could get to one. They were sitting in the middle of the room. Orihime leaned agaisnt a tall oak tree, her head resting against it as she looked at the leaves above, while Szayel sat next to her about a foot away.

"Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "I asked Ulquiorra about it one day, but he didn't really give me an answer. Actually, he stared at me for a few seconds, and then told me it was time for dinner." Sighing, she twirled some of the grass between her fingers without ripping it from its roots. "I didn't bother asking him again after that. But I figured if anyone would know, it would be you. You seem to know everything!"

He smiled. "Well, not everything, I'm afraid," he said, and then shifted into a more comfortable position. "So, why do you think it could rain in Hueco Mundo?"

"It's a desert, isn't it?" He nodded. From her face, he could tell she had some kind of theory she wanted proven; this pleased him greatly. "And what makes a desert a desert is that it loses more water than it gets," she said, a finger tapping her lips as she formulated her answer. "If that's the case, then it should rain. Maybe not as often as in other places, obviously, but still..."

"I can understand your line of logic." He removed his gloves and placed them in his pockets. The room was too warm for his liking. "However, I've never heard of it raining here. Even from the oldest of Hollow and Arrancar, there's never been mention of rain. The only rain encountered is when a Hollow go to Earth."

"Never? Not even once?" she asked incredulously, stretching her legs out in front of her. She'd been sitting on them for so long, she was starting to feel pins and needles. She winced at the sensation.

He watched her massaging her legs through the fabric of her dress, then forced himself to look away. "Is it really that surprising, in this environment that contains no life?"

Suddenly, they heard a light pitter-patter coming from above. Looking up, all they saw was the bright blue sky and white puffy clouds making up the ceiling. Szayel ignored it and turned to Orihime to comment on the unusual noise.

But she was still looking up.

"Orihime?"

The look on her face was a mixture of confusion, awe, and—was that happiness he saw? The Octava Espada couldn't be sure.

"Rain," she muttered, getting up, nearly tripping in the process. She still didn't have all the feeling back in her legs. Running over to a small window, she looked outside. Her eyes lit up.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, glancing over her head to see what had caught her attention. He could hardly believe it. Just as she had said it was rain, pelting down on the barren wasteland that was Hueco Mundo.

Orihime looked up at him. Her words came out of her mouth so quickly, he almost couldn't understand her. "I'll be right back, Szayel." Then she took off, twisting the handle on the side-door to open it, and ran out.

"O-Orihime!"

The stupid girl. Didn't she understand there could be Hollows out there? What did she think she was doing? He followed after her but stopped at the door frame, once he noticed she hadn't run too far away. Looking around, he realized not even the small hollow-lizards that usually dotted the landscape were outside.

Szayel was about to call out to her, demand that she return to the room, and yet...he couldn't. He stared at her, the heavy rain already soaked into her uniform and hair. Her head was raised, her eyes closed, and the most mystifying smile was on her face. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Her arms were at her sides, little beads of water clinging to the ends of her fingertips. For a moment, he was reminded of his released form; He was amazed how similar her fingers looked like his in that state.

Orihime's hands reached for her collar, unzipping the top and tossing it—along with the cape attached to it—onto the ground. She opened her eyes, tiny droplets decorating her eyelashes like jewels, and raised her bared arms up. Her hands were cupped, catching the water before it fell to the ground. The rain trailed down her face, neck, arms and chest, and followed the curve of her jawline.

What a waste, he thought, though even he wasn't quite sure what "waste" he was talking about. An image of his mouth on her chin, his tongue lapping up the droplets before they had a chance to fall to the ground, flashed through his mind before he shook his head. He'd had enough of this.

Confused, she walked towards him, her steps unsteady on the moist sand. "What are you still doing in there, Szayel? Come on out! The rain won't melt you or anything!"

That's when he noticed it. That smile. The smile he'd been trying for so long to elicit from her. And there it was: wide, bright, and almost blinding, in its own way.

"You're...enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, his eyes wide.

Her smile grew as she nodded, a bit of the water from her hair dripping onto him. Still smiling she tsked, her hands on her hips. "I thought a scientist like you wouldn't want to pass up a chance like this! This is probably a once in a lifetime opportunity to study this, if what you said earlier was true."

_She has a point_, a voice in the back of his head pointed out.

"Come on out," she said softly, holding her hands out.

He stared at them, at her reaching out for him, and suddenly her words from a week ago popped into his head of their own accord.

"_You can only reach out to someone for so long before you realize they're not going to reach back."_

His hand reached for hers. All he had to do was grab her hand—grab it and pull her back in—to stop this nonsense. But the moment their hands touched, he found himself unable to. Szayel was fascinated, drawn in by the softness; it was just like the smoothness of her cheek he'd felt during their first meeting. And the warmth passing through her hands to his bare ones! It shouldn't have been possible for her hands to be that warm, considering she was soaking wet, but it was. He felt a light tug and glanced down at Orihime, her eyes shining.

"Of course," he said finally. The rain started pouring down on him, his clothing getting just as soaked as hers. They stood there for a couple of seconds, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain around them.

"It's cleansing, isn't it?" Orihime asked, still holding onto his right hand. "That why I love the rain. I can stand under it, let it wash away my sins, my worries, my doubts. Then when it's all done, I feel a lot better. Weird, huh?"

He shook his head, the pink stands sticking to his face. Szayel moved his hair back to its proper place. "Not at all," he said, and meant every word of it.

He noticed the grip she still had on his hand. A bit of warmth rose to his cheeks. At the same time, she noticed their interwoven hands and let go, a blush coloring her cheeks as well. Neither said a thing.

"You know what we should have?" she said, suddenly excited. "We should have a water fight!"

"A what?" He had no idea what she was talking about. For all his studying of humans and every facet of their existence, he never came across anything about water fights.

She cupped her hands, allowing the water to fill them, and then, without warning, threw it at him. Her aim was deadly, the water hitting him square in the face. He wiped the water away, not that it helped with the rain still pouring.

Szayel was torn between outrage and amusement. Had she—? She had just thrown a handful of water in his face. Him, the Octava Espada!

"See? Like that!" she chirped. Again, she cupped her hands together, prepared to launch another attack. She turned around, to where Szayel had been moments before, only to find him missing. "Huh? Szayel?"

A large handful of water splashed her in the face.

He stood before her, smirking. "You shouldn't start something you can't finish."

Orihime smiled mischievously. "What makes you think I can't finish it?"

After what felt like only a short time, even though he knew in the back of his mind it had to be much longer, Szayel stopped and called out to her, "Why are we doing this? What purpose does it serve?"

"Purpose? Does everything have to have a purpose? It's just fun, that's all!" Szayel blinked at her response, finding himself without an answer. She laughed, clutching her sides. "Szayel, your face right now! It was so priceless!"

That's right. He had never figured out a comparison for her smile—or her laughter. But that didn't really surprise him. Her laughter and her smiles were so bright, so light, and so positive, it was impossible for him to think of one. Hollow and Arrancar were born from loneliness, heartache, and sorrow. Was it really surprising that he couldn't think of anything?

Orihime started running, giggling as she went. But her laughs caught in her throat as she felt herself lose her balance on the moist sand. She prepared herself for the fall to the ground when a pair of hands grabbed her forearms.

Pulling her up to a standing position, Szayel sighed. "Can you be more careful? Ulquiorra and Aizen-sama will have my head if you twist your ankle again."

"Sorry, Szayel. But thank you for your help."

"It was nothing," he said. The rain was starting to let up. "I've had enough time to investigate this rain. How about you?"

She nodded, and they made their way back inside.

* * *

When they returned to the "flower room," as Orihime dubbed it, they wrung out the water their hair and clothing. However, it became quite apparent that no matter how much water they got out, they'd still be soaking wet.

"I'll be fine. Really!" Orihime said, holding her hands up defensively.

Szayel shook his head. "Even if it is fairly warm here, your clothing won't be dry for at least a few hours. By that time you will be in your room again, and it's much colder in there than it is here. The combination of the two will lower your resistance, making you more susceptible to illness."

"Are there even any illnesses here in Hueco Mundo?"

A minute or so passed before he finally said, "Well, if you want to stay in your wet clothing, who am I to stop you?"

She considered this for a moment. The feeling of fresh dry clothing was rather appealing. "Not really, no. But," she said, averting her gaze, "I don't exactly have an extra set of clothing to wear."

"What about the clothes you were wearing when you first arrived to Las Noches?" he asked, remembering the weird, very inappropriate, clothing she'd had on.

"I have no idea. When I changed into these clothes, they took them from me. I haven't seen them since. I think they threw them away."

"I see. Well, if that's the case, then I'll see if I can find you something."

"Thank you," she murmured, blushing faintly.

He watched her for a moment before walking across the hall to his resting chamber, throwing the door to the closet open. Inside hung an extra uniform. Good. He pulled the clothes from the hanger and stripped the wet clothes off. Taking the sheet off his bed, he used it to dry himself, then pulled the clothes on. He took a pair of gloves out from the pockets and put them on as well.

All he had to do now was find something for Orihime to wear.

The only other article of clothing in the closet was his old Espada uniform, from when he was still the Decima Espada. He stared at the uniform disdainfully, but picked it up anyway. Taking another blanket from the bed and closing the closet foor, Szayel returned to the room and handed her the clothing and blanket.

"Here. That's all I have with me, but I think it should fit."

"Thanks again," she said, as she took the clothing from him. She paused. "Um, if you don't mind, you know..."

"Of course. Let me know when you're done." That being said, he headed to the door and shut it behind him.

She waited a couple of seconds before removing her clothing and drying herself off. She didn't know why, but the thought of Szayel being there when she was changing felt inappropriate. It wasn't like with Ishida-kun in Soul Society, when they'd taken some nameless Shinigami's clothing. It was like being with Tatsuki, so she didn't feel awkward changing in front of him.

But it wasn't the same this time.

It took a bit of effort to get the clothes on. The top was tight at her chest, more so than the other uniform she'd been wearing, but it was acceptable. The bottoms were too loose at the waist and kept slipping down. She sighed in frustration, thinking of what she could do, when an idea hit her. Taking the mostly dry sash from her uniform, she tied it around her waist in a big bow.

"Szayel, I'm done!" she called to him, and resisted the urge to fidget. It wouldn't be good if the bow were to come undone. In the back of her mind, she prayed to whatever gods were listening to keep the sash tied.

The Octava Espada opened the door, noticed her standing near the window. And try as he might, he couldn't help staring.

Orihime cleared her throat. "Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing," he said, closing the door. He made his way over, until he standing beside her. "It's just unusual to see those clothes on you. I suppose I'm used to seeing you in your uniform."

Not to mention it was very peculiar seeing those clothes on the female form. The cloth hugged her body in certain places, making it quite apparent that it wasn't made for a woman.

"_You didn't write anything about her boobs? How do you miss that?"_ Nnoitra's words echoed. Szayel closed his eyes, willing them to exit his mind.

But he had to say, he was rather impressed with her ingenuity when it came to the bottom half of his old uniform—using the sash from her own as a belt of sorts. He didn't realize until he had stepped out of the room that the bottom would be too large for her petite frame. And by that time, there was nothing he could do.

Orihime shifted her gaze from the window to him. "Thank you, Szayel, for letting me go out in the rain. And for the clothing. And...for letting me have a bit of happiness that I never thought I would experience again." She was about to bow, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"You're welcome," he said, smiling. "But I don't think it would be wise to tempt fate in this situation, if you understand my meaning." Szayel glanced at the bow at her waist; heat rushed to Orihime's cheeks as she nodded in agreement.

They watched as the rain died down to a light drizzle. Soon, it ceased altogether. A couple of hollow-lizards poked their heads out of the sand and, deciding the weather was suitable, crawled out. Orihime giggled at the spectacle they made of it, shaking their heads in an attempt to remove the sand that was plastered there—not that it worked.

"You know," Szayel said, his hair covering his eyes, "you're a lot like rain, Orihime."

She glanced at him, her head tilted to the side. "What do you mean?"

He watched her play with a loose string on his old uniform while she waited for his answer. After about half a minute, she was tempted to repeat her question when he finally replied.

"You bring life."


	9. Moth to a Flame

Szayel walked the corridors, listening to the echo of his heels on the marble floor. The noise sounded off to him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why exactly. It wasn't until he was halfway to his destination that he figured it out.

When had he become used to hearing _her_ footfall along with his own?

He continued going deeper into the heart of Las Noches, far underground where the Privaron Espada resided. No one ever went there, not even Aizen-sama himself. And why would he? They were nothing but canon fodder in the unlikely event Las Noches was invaded.

Unlike the other Espada, who were engrossed with sparring—beating the crap out of each other in an attempt to better oneself—Szayel didn't train nearly as much. Not because he didn't appreciate the importance of physical strength, but because he held mental ability in a higher regard. But today he felt the need for a good, long battle. His body felt almost foreign to him: his hands were numb, and he couldn't concentrate on anything for more than ten seconds at a time. He hadn't been this restless since before he'd been assigned as Orihime's guard.

Which was why he was there; he knew of only one person who'd be willing to spar with him and still have enough battle prowess to keep the fight interesting.

"Cirucci Thunderwitch!" he called out, shoving the doors open.

Szayel sensed her reiatsu and looked up at one of the more distant pillars filling the room. She sat with her legs crossed, inspecting at her nails in disinterest, her whip at her side. She didn't bother to looking at him.

"Oh? And what does the exalted Octava Espada want with a nobody like me?" Cirucci jumped down and sashayed over to him.

He watched her impassively, though he could already feel his irritation growing. "Spar with me."

"What's this?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. "I thought you preferred staying cooped up in that lab of yours over whatever ridiculous new experiment you have, poking and prodding until you get the reaction you want."

"The reason's not important," he said, his hand on his zanpakutou, prepared to draw it out.

Cirucci's hand covered his and shoved the sword back into its sheath, a smirk on her face. "The reason isn't important? First, you willingly come here—to fight, of all things—and now this? There's gotta be some interesting explanation for this turn of events. You're not acting like yourself. Having 'women' issues?"

A muscle in the corner of his eye twitched; her grin grew wider, almost feral. "It is, isn't it? How pathetic. And here I thought you'd never get over me."

Szayel smirked coldly. "Well, we all make mistakes, don't we?"

"Ouch. Your words wound me," she sneered, her hands resting on her hips. "So, tell me: who is the fortunate—or, in this case, unfortunate—new object of your so-called 'affections'?"

The Octava Espada sighed, his frustration rising the more she talked. Perhaps coming hadn't been such a good idea. "I'm not here to make idle chit-chat."

"You know, there have been rumors about that girl Aizen-sama brought from the human world," she said, an evil gleam in her eyes. She took her whip from her side, the end dragging on the floor as she walked around him. "Do you want to know?"

"Stop with your games, woman." The image of his fingers wrapped around her neck, stopping her infernal chatter, offered him more relief than it should have.

She stopped pacing, frowning deeply. "Hmph! As if you have any right to say that. You're notorious for toying with people's minds! Or am I thinking of someone else?" Szayel remained silent. "As I was saying, rumor has it that the Cuarta Espada, her usual guard, has been on more missions as of late, and that there's a new guard to take his place while he's out. I didn't really think much about it when I heard the news. But then a certain Octava Espada shows up some time later, looking quite the part of a love-sick puppy dog. What a coincidence, don't you think? Perhaps the two are somehow related?"

His mouth twisted into a cruel smile. "Is that all? If you're not going to spar with me, I have more important things to do than listen to your flawed theories." He turned on his heel, about to exit her domain.

"What is it you want with that whore, Szayel?" Cirucci demanded. In the blink of an eye, she found herself pinned to one of the posts, Szayel's forearm against her neck.

"As if you have the right to say that," he spat back at her.

Her nails clawed at his arm, her mouth opening and closing in an attempt to speak. Reluctantly, he lessened the pressure on her throat. A cough escaped her lips.

She grinned widely. "Did I hit a nerve? Like a good little lap dog when its mistress is in distress." Szayel's eyes narrowed, the words he'd used to taunt Ulquiorra only a couple of months ago being thrown in his face. "I really am curious what interest you could have in this human girl...though I have an idea of what it could be."

She was baiting him, and he knew it. "And that idea would be?"

"You want to taint her," she said, her head titled to the side. Unconsciously, he lessened the pressure on her neck. "It's the truth, isn't it? She's like an angel, a pure being who shouldn't even be in a place like this. That's what draws you to her, like a moth to a flame. But at the same time, it disgusts you. She represents all that you'll never be, all that you'd never want to be. You desire to drag her through the dirt, ruin her until she's as tainted as you. Then, and only then, can she truly be yours."

Her fingers touched the tip of his zanpakutou, slowly running down the length of it as far as she could reach. Szayel slapped her hand away from it—she laughed. He turned around, and only then did her hands reach up to massage the soreness in her neck.

"You disgust me," he muttered, leaving her domain.

* * *

Another day, another mission Ulquiorra was sent off to. Orihime didn't really mind, though, because it allowed her to spend time with Szayel.

She smiled, warmth making its way to her cheeks. He'd done so much for her recently, it _really _wasn't fair. Perhaps she could do something in return to thank him.

"I'm leaving, Inoue," Ulquiorra said, his voice cutting into her thoughts.

Her head snapped to where he stood a few feet away, his posture less stiff than usual. "Did—Did you call me by my name?"

First, he asked her a question without any prompting, and now this? What next? The only thing he could do to shock her now was to come into her room with a cute little puppy dog and demand they call it "Fluffy." The mental image of Ulquiorra holding a small, white puppy in his hands, its tail wagging enthusiastically, with both his and the dog's eyes shining brightly, popped into her head. She placed her hand over her mouth, to stop the giggling from escaping—it didn't help.

Ulquiorra stared at her. He probably didn't want to know. Looking up wearily, he exited the room before she had a chance to ask him anything more.

Her laughter ceased the moment he shut the door. She looked at the spot he'd stood moments before, and couldn't help the small smile that made its way to her lips. She never thought she'd hear him call her by her name. It was always "woman" this and "woman" that.

It was a nice change of pace.

She waited for the door to open and to see Szayel's face, hear him greet her in his usual way, and go off to his domain to either sit in the garden—even though some of the flowers were already wilting—or talk with TREA, who was quite the conversationalist for a machine. Orihime pulled up the fabric of her uniform at her wrist to check the time, only to remember that she hadn't brought her watch with her to Hueco Mundo.

Worry started settling within her. What was taking Szayel so long? Did something happen to him?

A moment later, the door slowly opened and Szayel entered the room. Orihime's eyebrows furrowed upon seeing him. She couldn't figure out why, but something felt off about him. The way he held himself was stiffer than usual, the smirk on his face not quite right. But most importantly, it was almost as if she could feel the waves of tension rolling off him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, and stood from the table.

He shook his head. "Nothing important, Orihime."

"But there is something, important or not, right?" she said, noticing the way he phrased his response.

Szayel couldn't help but smirk. Damn her for being so perceptive. "I've just been more stressed lately. I tried to relieve some of it earlier, but it didn't work as well as I thought it would." If anything, it made matters worse.

Her frown deepened. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Orihime hesitated for a moment before her face lit up. The Octava Espada knew that face all too well. It meant she had an idea. A small part of him was concerned by this fact.

"Can Arrancar eat?" she asked, her eyes shining. She clutched her hands together, anxiously awaiting his response.

He raised an eyebrow at her question. "Our sustenance comes from reiatsu, but we can eat human food."

"And you can taste it?"

"Yes..." He wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going.

Orihime's face had a set, determined look to it; Szayel could practically see the wheels in her head turning. Looking up at him, she said, "I have the perfect solution to relieve you of your stress. I'm going to make you some good-old Orihime-style cooking! Hm, or maybe...I could make that..."

He heard her talk but didn't pay attention. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what _that_ was. Suddenly, he felt a light tugging on his hand, startling him from his thoughts. Her hand held onto his, pulling him in the direction of his domain.

Was it really necessary for her to be so...touchy-feely? While he couldn't complain, not entirely, it was still foreign to him to have someone touching him, especially of their own free will.

She smiled. "Come on, Szayel. Off to the kitchens!" She pointed down the hall enthusiastically.

He shook his head and sighed. "Orihime, the kitchens are on the other side of Las No—" He stopped, noticing the unusual grin that'd formed on her face. He couldn't help mirroring her actions. "How very cunning of you, using me to tell you where the kitchens are."

She shrugged, still smiling. "I guess that means you have no choice now but to show me the way, or I'll continue to use you as my compass until we reach our destination."

That wasn't necessarily the case, but it was more interesting to humor her. "I guess I have no choice," he said in mock-weary voice, heading in the opposite direction. Orihime let go of his hand and started walking next to him.

"Do you think the kitchen has all the ingredients I need? You know, for my recipe?"

"Probably not." He pushed the kitchen doors open, startling the Arrancar cook in the process. "Hold on a minute," Szayel ordered. The other Arrancar didn't seem too happy, but complied.

Orihime looked around, taking in the white speckled countertops and the different types of cooking devices. Thankfully, she saw a stove in the back of the room. "If Arrancar don't need to eat human food, why do you have a kitchen?"

"Aizen-sama and the other two Shinigami still need to eat," Szayel said, swiping his glove on the countertop. Not a speck of dust or dirt. "What were the ingredients you required?" He glanced at the lower-level Arrancar. "He'll obtain them for you in a quick and timely manner."

The Arrancar nodded quickly.

"Oh? Okay. Well, I'll need..." She tried to remember all the ingredients off the top of her head. "About 2 pounds of cacao, a pound of sugar, um...some cinnamon, powdered cloves, chili peppers and vanilla. Oh, and some water! I think that's it."

"You heard her," he said, and noticed the other Arrancar was only too happy to leave. "It shouldn't take long."

"I see." Orihime was tempted to lift herself up onto the countertops, but resisted the urge. That would be rude of her. Instead, she settled for leaning against the island in the center of the room, next to Szayel. "Say, can Arrancar sing?"

He blinked. "Hm?"

"Can Arrancar sing?" she repeated, laughing at his confused expression. "I know, I know! I always ask such weird questions—"

"Indeed. But that's not a bad thing," he said, cutting her off. "Why do you want to know?"

She shrugged carelessly. "I don't know. I was just wondering. According to what you and Ulquiorra have told me, Arrancar don't need to eat human food, don't need to sleep, and so on. If that's the case, then what can you guys _not_ do?"

_Fall in love?_ whispered an insidious voice, sounding suspiciously like Cirucci. Szayel chose to ignore it.

"I'm afraid I don't know the answer. I've never heard any Arrancar sing before, but that doesn't necessarily mean they can't."

"I really hope Arrancar can. It would be such a shame if they couldn't. Though I suppose, just like with people, there'd be some who could sing better than others, and other's who..."

"Couldn't?" he said, and she nodded. "Well, if not, at least we won't have to deal with tone-deaf Arrancar who are under the impression they can sing well."

She laughed. "That's true."

The lower-level Arrancar Szayel had sent out earlier entered the room. He lugged the batch of ingredients to the countertops, and then left as quickly as possible. They stared at the ingredients. He couldn't help wondering what she could make from them, but realized he would find out soon enough.

"Okay," Orihime said, looking in the counters for the supplies. "I need a sauce pan, a bowl, a spoon..." She continued naming off the different items as she pulled them from their places and placed them on the counter.

Szayel moved to help her, but she stopped him.

"No, you've done so much for me already: letting me have something other than plain rice, giving me things to occupy my time here, letting me go outside Las Noches, giving me a necklace"—she touched the pendant around her neck—"giving me TREA, carrying me to my room after I sprained my ankle, playing Operation with me, giving me a garden, and...letting me have a bit of happiness." She blushed as she remembered the feeling of the rain splashing against her face, eventually soaking the both of them.

His eyes widened as she listed off the things he'd done. "You were keeping track?"

She nodded enthusiastically, then stopped. She frown slightly. "Compared to that, what I'm doing for you now is nothing," she said, sadness entering her voice. She shook her head a couple of times and replaced her frown with a smile. "But it's a start, right?"

But to Szayel, it was quite the opposite. Her one supposedly small act of kindness contained sincerity than everything he'd done for her combined. He watched her get the ingredients as she muttered the directions aloud. After nearly spilling the mixture on herself three times, he handed her an apron that hung on the door.

Orihime laughed sheepishly. "Thanks. I'd hate to get my clothing dirty. Oh yeah," she said, as she tied the apron around her waist. "I never returned your clothing to you."

"That's quite all right," he said, his hands behind his back. "I was never particularly fond of that uniform."

Using her finger, she took a small swipe of the chocolaty mixture from the spoon and tasted it, to make sure it turned out right. "Perfect!" she chirped. "And why's that?"

He stood silent for a moment. "Bad memories." She looked like she wanted to ask him more about it, but she didn't press any further. Szayel was only too thankful.

"All I need to do now is boil the water and mix the paste with the water, and then, voila! Chili-chocolate!" She clapped her hands, then placed a saucer on the stove.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is this another one of your creations?"

"Surprisingly, no. We had a foreign exchange student, and she taught me how to make it. She'd heard of my famous and...unusual sense of taste, and figured that if anyone would like it, I would. I think it's absolutely delicious!"

That was what worried him.

They waited for the water to boil, which took longer than Orihime expected. She figured it had something to do with the reiatsu in the air. It seemed like it affected everything in this world, in some way or another.

"_She's like the swallow that flies so high. She's like the river that never runs dry_," she started singing softly.

Szayel turned his head towards her, watching her lips move while she sang. After the first two lines, she started humming the song instead.

There was nothing special about her voice. She could carry tune—he couldn't deny that—but she was nowhere near as talented as some of the other humans he'd heard on some recordings from the human world. But like her laughter and smiles, there was something undeniably pleasing about it.

She'd nearly finished humming her song when she noticed him staring at her, curious. Orihime blushed and covered her mouth. "Oh, sorry Szayel. I didn't mean to subject you to my terrible singing. Sometimes I don't even realize I'm doing it."

Did she always have to be so self-degrading?

"Not at all," he said. "I think my only complaint would be that I don't know how the rest of the song goes."

"Oh." She scratched the back of her head. "To be honest, that's the reason I started humming the song after the first two lines. I never got a chance to learn those lyrics in music class before...well, you know."

He nodded. Yes, he knew exactly what she was talking about. But some things were best left unsaid.

Finally, the water was boiling. Orihime turned off the stove. Grabbing two mugs she took three spoonfuls of the paste, leaving the spoons in the cups. Then she took the boiling water and poured it in, stirring the mixture until the paste had dissolved. She pushed a mug over to him, then started blowing on her drink before taking the tiniest of sips.

"Even better than usual!"

Szayel eyed the contents of the mug wearily. It didn't look too outrageous, unlike her chocolate-peanut butter-rice combination; but that didn't mean he was keen on consuming anything she made. Still, if he couldn't handle this, he didn't have the right to call himself an Espada.

To his surprise, the chili-chocolate drink was as good as she said it would be.

* * *

"Thanks for letting me cook," Orihime said, once they'd returned her to her room. Ulquiorra was already there waiting, glaring at them suspiciously.

Szayel shook his head. "I should be the one thanking you, Orihime. Until next time." He noticed her smile, a blush forming on her cheeks, but didn't make mention of it. Instead, he listened to her door shut as he walked back to his domain.

Lumina and Verona greeted him upon his arrival. "Szayel Aporro-sama," Lumina called out, far less annoying than usual—odd. "Aizen-sama has an experiment he would like completed right away."

Nodding, he walked to his main laboratory to get started. He still felt tense, he realized, running through the events of the day in his mind. But there was no denying he felt much better than he did earlier.

A smirk formed on his lips. Perhaps that drink of hers really did help...

He scoffed. Doubtful.

After taking a few minutes to get settled, he unknowingly started humming the melancholic tune Orihime'd been singing earlier that day.


	10. No Cure For

It was much too quiet for Ulquiorra's liking. Although he, more than any other Espada, appreciated the silence, he was unnerved to hear nothing coming from inside Orihime's room. Intrigued, he turned the doorknob and entered. He half-expected to see her hunched form sitting at the table, reading a book, playing some game or even just resting her head on the table, a bored look on her face. Instead, he found her usual seat empty.

He scanned the room. Where was she? Finally, his gaze rested upon her curled-up form on the couch. Taking a few steps towards her, he noticed her eyes were closed and eyebrows furrowed, as if she were in pain. Ulquiorra frowned, placing a hand on her forehead.

Was she feeling ill? It took him a moment to realize the futility of his actions, as he had nothing to compare it to. How was he supposed to know if she felt warmer than usual, if he'd never felt how warm she normally was?

A million questions ran through his mind. How did she get sick? And more importantly, why now of all times?

He'd come to her room to inform her that he would be on his longest mission to date, one spanning a day and a half. The thought of leaving her for that long, with only Szayel as her guard, unnerved him to begin with, but now that she was sick, unable to fend for herself? He tried not to think about it. He realized, though, there wasn't much he could do to change the situation.

Orihime started shivering, her arms wrapping around herself in an attempt to keep warm. Glancing down, he noticed her blanket in a pile on the floor, then looked back at her shivering form. Ulquiorra picked the blanket up, brushed off any dirt it may have gotten, and placed the cover over her. The shivering subsided.

Closing the door quietly, he sonido-ed to Szayel's domain and smashed the door open, the marble pieces thrown to the other side of the room, landing with loud thumps. A door opened, and the Octava Espada poked his head out, his eyes wide. He looked from the impassive Ulquiorra to the hole, where there was once a door to his domain, and back.

Szayel frowned, his fingers gripping the edge of the door. "Apparently, you've never heard of knocking. You're going to have to fix that, by the way."

Ulquiorra looked up at the domain ceiling. There was a rather large crack running from one end of the room to the other, then down one of the walls. "It's not as though your domain was in good condition to begin with," he said monotonously, though Szayel swore he could see the smallest of smirks.

Shutting the door behind him, he walked towards Ulquiorra until he was about a foot away, his arms folded over his chest. "What do you want? I was about to leave for Orihime's room in a few minutes—"

"Inoue is ill," Ulquiorra said, without ceremony.

Szayel's eyes widened. Did Ulquiorra just call her by her name? He shook his head quickly. That wasn't important at the moment. "Are you certain?"

"Of course I'm not," Ulquiorra said. He kept putting his hands in his pockets and taking them out restlessly. "I'm not the scientist in Las Noches. That's your job. I only suspect she's ill because she was still sleeping when I came in, and that's...unusual."

Szayel nodded. "I agree, though I'm not sure how much help I can be. As you said, I'm a scientist. If Orihime really is sick, she needs a doctor. But I will do what I can."

"Do what you must to make her healthy again. If Aizen-sama finds out she's become ill, it will be one of our heads—and it won't be mine." With that, Ulquiorra walked out of his domain, leaving Szayel to stare at his back until he was out of sight.

The Octava Espada smirked. If that was the case, then why did he seem so worried about her well-being?

He walked around to a couple of rooms, gathering up different instruments that might help him figure out what was wrong. It was quite a large pile of things, more than he could possibly hope to carry, so he took a cart from one of the spare rooms that had long been forgotten and placed the objects on the two levels. Once he was situated, he wheeled the things to her room.

With a slight push on the door, Szayel rolled the cart in, the wheels letting out a loud squeak halfway into the room. He winced, then glanced at the sleeping form on the couch. It didn't make a sound the whole way over, but decided now of all times would be best to be noisy.

He saw Orihime turn, so that she was facing him, but her eyes still closed. He sighed, relieved, and laid out the instruments on her table. When he was done Szayel faced her and frowned. He needed to know what symptoms she had, but it would be hard with her sleeping. He didn't want to wake her up either, as sleep was probably the best thing that could be done, especially if she contracted a virus, which he suspected she had.

"Szayel?" she asked, her voice cracking.

Grabbing a chair, he sat down next to her and took note of her appearance. Her eyes were open and shiny, as if she were about to cry. He removed his glove and placed a hand on her forehead.

"You're warm. Too warm." He stood up and took a thermometer out of his pocket.

Even in her fever induced state, Orihime couldn't help raising an eyebrow. "Do you always carry a thermometer in your pocket?"

"Well, you never know what might come about—of course not!" he said, rolling his eyes. "Ulquiorra informed me of the situation. Now open." Orihime opened her mouth slightly, and he placed the thermometer under her tongue. They waited a minute or so until it let out a small beep. "37.7 degrees celsius," he said, and turned back to the table to get something.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "What do I have? An infection? I thought there weren't any illnesses here in Hueco Mundo."

"I doubt there are any bacteria, as they too are living things. A virus, on the other hand, is a more likely culprit." He turned around with a needle in one hand and a long strip of rubber in the other. "But there's only one way to find out."

She eyed the needle wearily, pushing herself against the back of the couch. She held her arms close to her chest. "No!"

Szayel sighed, shaking his head. He sat down in the chair in front of her and placed the objects on the couch. "It's a necessary evil, I'm afraid," he said, holding his hand out, waiting for Orihime to give him one of her arms. She looked at him and shook her head. "I can't be certain what you have is a virus. If, on the off-chance I'm wrong and you have a bacterial infection, you need antibiotics."

She stared at the needle for a long time, then at him. Finally, she nodded. "All right," she said, holding out her left arm. "Do it quickly."

He rolled up her sleeve and prepared the arm. Orihime squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away, bracing herself for the inevitable pain. She could hear her heart beating in her ears, could feel a bit of sweat forming on her brow.

But there was nothing.

After a few seconds, she cracked open an eye and looked at him curiously. "Aren't you going to get it over with? Or are you going to make me wait and suffer?"

He chuckled, placing a cotton ball on the spot the needle had been. "I'm already done."

Her eyes widened as she looked down at her arm. A bit of tape kept the cotton in place. "It really is," she said in awe, examining his handiwork. "I didn't even feel a thing."

"It shouldn't hurt if the person taking your blood is doing it correctly," he said, eyeing the red substance in the tube. "And now to find out what is causing you to be ill." He walked over to the table and, taking a pipette, placed a small sample of her blood onto a glass slide. Placing it under the microscope, Szayel peered down the eyepiece. He fiddled with the focus on the side to sharpen the image.

Orihime smiled at the scene before her, watching as he sat hunched over the microscope in deep concentration. "Always the scientist," she said, giggling as she pulled the blanket closer. "But that's okay. I wouldn't have you any other way."

Szayel stiffened at her words. Was that the fever talking, or just one of her usual comments? He couldn't be sure.

Focusing on the instruments in front of him, he called out, "You should get some rest."

"Hey, Szayel?" He made a small noise of affirmation, and she continued, "If I can get sick here in Hueco Munco, does that mean Arrancar get sick, too?"

The Octava Espada looked up and turned to her. "No," he said. "Bacteria and viruses need living hosts in order to thrive. Arrancar would be poor candidates."

Her face brightened a bit, though her eyes were still glazed over. "Really? So I finally found something that humans can do but Arrancar can't. I can't help feeling a bit envious. Being sick isn't fun at all."

"What's it like?" he asked, and turned back to blood sample in front of him. He'd read accounts of illnesses, but they only told of the symptoms and the path of the infection once it was in the host.

"Well, it's kind of hard to describe. It really depends on what illness you have, too. For the most part, you feel all weak and shaky, and sometimes you feel nauseous." She paused. "To put it simply, your body doesn't really feel like your own."

His hand slipped from the focus. "I see." Perhaps he was wrong about Arrancar not being able to become ill. Looking up from the eyepiece, Szayel turned to her resolutely. "As I thought, it's a virus. Unfortunately, this means that I can't do anything about it." He frowned. "The only thing we can do is keep you hydrated and as rested as possible. Your body will do the rest."

The moment Orihime nodded, her stomach let out a small growl.

Szayel chuckled. "Do you think you can keep your food down?" he asked. He headed for the door and opened it.

"Yeah, I think so," she said, trying to not blush.

"All right, we should get you something to eat. Then you need to rest." He looked down the hall until his gaze landed on the lower-level Arrancar who insisted on plastering herself to Aizen—Loli, or something to that effect. "You!"

"What do you want, Octava Espada?" she demanded, not bothering to hide her disdain.

He ignored it. "Go to the chef and tell him to change our guest's meal to something simpler. Miso soup and rice should be good." Loli's eyes narrowed, her hands on her hips. She was about to snap back at him before he interrupted her. "Why are you still standing here? Go!"

Giving Szayel one last piercing look, she made her way to the kitchen, muttering, "Aizen-sama will be hearing about this. Just wait and see."

Letting out a light hmph,he shut the door. Orihime stared at him curiously.

"What are you going to do? I mean, if I'm going to be sleeping for most of the time..."

He shrugged. "Don't worry about me. I'll find something to occupy my time. Just worry about getting better."

After a few minutes the door opened, and the Arrancar chef came in with a small tray with a pitcher of water and a mug, a bowl of miso soup, and a bowl of rice. A spoon and a pair of chopsticks lay next to the bowls. He placed the tray in front of Orihime and bowed to Szayel before exiting the room.

She looked at the food and sighed, picking up the spoon. "I guess it's back to boring food."

"Only until you get better," he said.

He watched as she tried using the spoon to bring the soup to her mouth. But her hand was shaking so much, most of the soup dripped out and back into the bowl before she could eat it. After two more unsuccessful attempts, Orihime gave up on using the spoon altogether, picking up the small bowl and sipping the soup directly from it.

Pouring her some water, he handed her the mug. "Drink."

She took the glass from him and chugged, letting out a small content sigh when she was finished, a bit of the water still on her upper lip. It was strange for a meal to be so quiet. He thought back to his other meals with her, where she chatted with him more than actually ate the food in front of her. She looked at the bowl of rice with furrowed brows.

"I'm done," she said, still not having touched the rice.

"I know you don't like plain rice, but you need your strength." Her face was still less than enthusiastic. Picking up the bowl and using the chopsticks to hold out a small bit of rice to her, he said, "I'll feed you myself, if necessary."

Orihime broke out into giggles. "No!" she exclaimed, and tool the bowl from him. "All right, all right, I'll eat! But I can't promise I'll be able to eat it all."

Szayel smirked as she used her fingers to bring small pinches of rice to her mouth. "Eat at least half of it." She continued eating for a few minutes until the bowl was a little less than halfway empty. He nodded in approval, taking the tray and placing it on the floor next to the couch.

When he returned to his seat, he noticed she was looking at her fingers, frowning at the bit of rice grains and residue on her fingers. There wasn't a napkin provided with her meal, so he could sense she was debating whether to wipe her fingers on her clothing or the blanket. Eventually, she decided to do neither; she brought her fingers to her lips, licking off the small grains of rice and residue. His eyes widened at the action, but he couldn't look away, watching as she repeated the action for every finger. When she was done he finally pulled his gaze from her fingers, his mouth very dry all of a sudden.

"If you're done..." He couldn't finish his statement.

But she nodded and lay back down into a comfortable position, pulling the covers up and wrapping herself. It looked like she was in a cocoon. Standing up, he walked over to the pile of games and books he'd given her a few months ago and took out a book that seemed interesting.

"Szayel," she called out after about thirty minutes. He marked his place. She was staring at the ceiling, her eyes half closed. "I can't sleep."

"Closing your eyes tends to help in that endeavor."

Orihime turned towards him and gave him a glare that reminded him of a certain Cuarta Espada, though not nearly as intimidating coming from her. "That's what I've been doing since you started reading."

Szayel stood and headed over to the couch. "What would help you fall asleep?"

"Kiss me."

It was very strange feeling—half of his brain stopped to a grinding halt while the other half went a million kilometers a minute. But both sides were wondering where that comment had come from. He decided it must have been the fever talking.

"Pardon?" he asked, hoping the shock from her question wasn't too clearly written on his face.

She smiled and, taking her hand out from under the covers, and pointed to the center of her forehead. "I've always had trouble getting to sleep when I'm sick. When I was really young, I got really really sick, and I couldn't sleep for a long time. My brother stayed up with me all night, cradling me in his arms. He tried everything he could to get me to fall asleep, but nothing worked. In the end, he placed a kiss on my forehead and told me that it was a special kiss, one that would put me to sleep in no time at all. And then, before I knew it, I was asleep. Since that time, whenever I got ill, he would always place a kiss on my forehead so I could get some rest."

Szayel stared at her as she finished her story.

"I know it's silly, but please?" She looked up at him, her eyes wide and shining. The Octava Espada frowned, half-wondering if perhaps this was the power Aizen wanted from her. He could feel his resolve crumbling.

This was ridiculous. It would never work. It was a silly girl's superstition. Not to mention he was under no obligation to do this for her.

On the other hand, it would help her sleep and, with that, help her fight off this infection more quickly. And if that meant he could avoid Aizen finding out about her being ill, all the better for him. Besides, it was just an experiment. There was no involvement. No attachment. No feelings involved. What was the worst it could do?

Szayel placed one hand on the back of the couch and the other on the armrest, and then leaned over, his lips brushing against her forehead. He regretted instantly and pulled away, turning around before she could see the flush slowly forming on his cheeks. Once he was fairly certain his face was back to its usual color, he turned around, only to find Orihime sleeping peacefully.

She lay on her side in a fetal position, her arms held close to her body, the covers slightly loosened around her so that one corner of the blanket lay on the floor. He picked up the edge of the cover and placed it on the couch with her, then sat down. He watched her even breathing with a neutral face, his head in his hands.

The book he'd been reading earlier was completely forgotten.

* * *

"Wow, I feel much better today! Are you sure you didn't put anything in my food to make me better?" Orihime asked, stretching her arms up as high as she could.

Szayel chuckled. "I assure you, I didn't. There's nothing I could have done, since you had a viral infection. Besides, even though you feel better, you should still take it easy. Your body's still not at 100 percent."

She was about to comment when they heard a knock on the door. Orihime looked at him curiously, as if to ask who it could possibly be. The Octava Espada shrugged. He had no idea either, though somewhere in the back of his mind he could sense it was something ominous. The door opened, light pouring into the room, and the figure stepped in assertively.

"A-Aizen-sama," Szayel said, and then bowed. Orihime looked at the Shinigami ex-captain with a bit of fear, her hands balled up beside her.

Taking note of the room, particularly the foreign objects from Szayel's lab, Aizen said, "I hear you're not feeling well, Orihime. I'm sorry to hear that."

Szayel looked over to her, somewhat amused that look on her face and his thoughts were in synch: No, you're not.

Orihime plastered on a smile and lowered her eyes respectfully, though the Octava Espada could see a bit of defiance deep within them. "Thank you, Aizen-san. You're too kind."

"It was nothing. Although," Aizen said, turning to Szayel with an accusing look, "I do have to wonder how you became ill under our care. It does speak rather poorly of us as hosts. Don't you agree, Szayel?"

Szayel stiffened. He knew all too well that what Aizen said and what he meant were completely different things. In this case, he knew the question he was being asked was really, "What did you do that caused her to become ill?" But even he had to admit that Orihime becoming ill was odd. Her immune system should have been healthy enough to fight off the infection...unless...

She decided to play in the rain for hours on end, in not exactly the warmest of conditions, thus lowering her resistance.

"Well, Szayel Aporro Granz?" Aizen's eyes narrowed, and for once, the Octava Espada's brain came up absolutely blank.

A loud cough coming from Orihime gained their attention. "Aizen-san, there's nothing you could've done to prevent me from getting sick," she said, her voice surprisingly calm and assertive.

Aizen raised an eyebrow; Szayel did the same, but only because he had no idea what she thought she was doing.

"Is that so?" Aizen asked. "Please, explain."

"Well, it's just...I mean, I get sick like this about once a month, so I've gotten used to it. It happens to a lot of women. Well, maybe not all of us have to deal with this. There's some variation of symptoms, but you know," she implied, gesturing with her hands to get her point across; it didn't work.

Szayel's frown deepened as Orihime's face turned redder by the second. What was she talking about? How could anyone get sick every mon—a light bulb went off in his head, and he resisted the urge to laugh at the explanation for her illness.

"Aizen-sama," he said. "I believe Orihime is trying to say she's menstruating."

In the silence that filled the room, you could hear a pin drop. Orhime's face turned an unusual shade of purple, like she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never be found.

Aizen coughed uncomfortably. "I see. That is a relief to hear. If that's all, I'll be taking my leave."

Szayel bowed as he exited the room, then turned to see Orihime, her face now a dark shade of red. Like the day before, she gave him an Ulquiorra-esque glare. But this time he was certain the Cuarta Espada would have been proud of the daggers she was sending his way. Her forehead furrowed, and she glanced at the covers at the end of the couch, bringing them closer.

"Oh God! I can never be in his presence by myself without this looping in head," she said, pulling the blanket over herself. "I'm just going to lay under here and die, if it's all the same to you."

He sat on the couch beside her, laughter escaping his lips. "You're the one who brought it up, in your very convoluted way. I just clarified things for him."

Orihime pulled the covers from her head and glared at him. "Yes, but there's a difference between alluding to it and saying it straight out like that! Besides, it's weird to have a guy talk about it in such a carefree way. It's like if I were to start talking about something that happened to guys, like...like...like—" Szayel raised an eyebrow, and she, realizing where her conversation was leading, placed a hand on her mouth. "Never mind."

"Why did you lie about that anyway?" he asked. "There was no need."

"I know there wasn't," she said, smoothing out the blanket in her lap. "But...I don't know. The way Aizen...-san was looking at you seemed so accusing. And it wasn't your fault, so I just...It just felt like he was about to punish you, and I didn't want that to happen, so..." She stopped and laughed sheepishly. "You know, I have no idea why I did. Let's just blame it on the fever."

He didn't point out that her fever already cleared up a few hours ago. "Agreed."

"What did you do while I was out, by the way?"

He pulled a loose thread on one of his gloves. Somehow he didn't think she would appreciate his answer—that he'd watched her sleep for the last few hours until she had woken up. "Nothing of interest. Read a couple of the books in the corner, looked at the virus some more; you know, very boring 'scientist' things."

She giggled before her face turned serious. "Szayel? When I was feverish, I didn't say or do anything weird, did I? Because I've heard I have the tendency to do that and...I...Oh God I did, didn't I?"

He could already see the panic taking control, her body tensing up beside him, her chatter going faster than should've been humanly possible, her eyebrows furrowing. And worst of all, Szayel knew, was that in the back of her mind she would berate and belittle herself mercilessly.

For some reason, that upset him more than he wanted to admit.

"No," he said, and she snapped out of her daze.

Relief washed over her features as she placed a hand on her chest. "You're sure?"

He nodded, his eyes closed. "I'm certain. Nothing out of the ordinary."

* * *

By the time Ulquiorra returned from his mission, Orihime was almost back to normal, though Szayel explained she should still take it easy for a few days and stay in her room. The Cuarta Espada was only too keen on following those instructions.

When he was back in his domain, Szayel returned the rest of his instruments back to their proper places. He took the remaining sample of her blood, and placed it in a test tube holder in his main laboratory, preparing to study the virus further. Without warning, he let out a sneeze.

Someone must been talking about him, he decided, then put on his apron as he prepared for the long hours of work ahead of him.


	11. Telephone

Despite popular belief, Szayel didn't always stay cooped up in his domain, hunched over his various experiments for days at a time. The only reason anyone believed this was because he was never seen around Las Noches. Thus it was assumed that, if he was never seen, he must be in his domain. But as the famous saying goes, one should never assume anything. The Octava Espada simply happened to excel at staying invisible. He avoided the densely populated areas of Las Noches, such as the Espada common room, in favor of more deserted places.

He had very good reason for avoiding the other Arrancar. If there was any other pastime more popular in Hueco Mundo than sparring, it would be hearing the newest piece of gossip spewed out from the rumor mill. Szayel wasn't one to listen to gossip; he'd been the subject of one too many rumors as it was, such as "The Octava Espada is gay," "His hair isn't naturally pink," and "Cirucci dumped him because he was too girly for her."

But this time there was nothing he could do. Szayel needed to get to Aizen's throne room and report how Orihime was doing, as part of his responsibility of being her guard. Unfortunately, all the routes to that particular room were swarming with other Arrancar. He sighed. It was a necessary evil he'd have to deal with.

He decided to take the shortest route and hope for the best, making his way through the waves of lower-level Arrancar. He wondered more than once why they were even allowed in. They were no better than the Hollows outside Las Noches. He noticed a group of Arrancar talking in quick hushed tones, but when he turned to them, they did not cease their banter like normal. Instead, a couple of knowing grins formed on their faces, and their chatter became even more frantic.

Szayel rolled his eyes. He was halfway to his destination when he bumped, quite literally, into Yami. Looking up at the significantly larger Espada, he was surprised to see a cold glare etched into his face.

"Hmph," Yami muttered, and pushed past, continuing to walk down the hall until he was out of sight.

Well, that was unusual. He and the Decima never got along to begin with—personally, Szayel found him lacking in mental capabilities—but there was always a certain, almost forced, respect for each other, if only because they were both Espada.

Shrugging slightly, he continued towards Aizen's throne room. He was about a hundred steps or so away when Zommari stepped in front of him and bowed, his hands placed together as if he were praying. Szayel frowned; what could the Septima Espada want with him? The only time they interacted was during Espada meetings. Outside of those, their paths never crossed.

"Octava Espada," Zommari said, his deep voice reverberating off the walls. "I congratulate you on your finding 'amor.' May it continue to bring you brightness all the rest of your days."

With a straightened back he turned the corner and disappeared, leaving a very confused Szayel to ponder the words Zommari left him.

He sighed and opened the throne room door, half-wondering if this day would become any stranger than it already was.

* * *

Szayel found it quite bothersome to report to Aizen, especially since these 'reports' were just a formality. He seriously doubted Aizen cared what happened to Orihime. As long as she was able to do whatever he'd taken her for, it was all the same to him.

He was on his way back to his domain, taking the longer but less populated route, when he heard an obnoxiously loud voice call out to him.

"Hey Szayel!"

Grimmjow slapped him on the back; the force nearly caused Szayel to topple over. He couldn't help glaring at the Sexta Espada. He wasn't exactly friendly with Grimmjow, but there wasn't the same animosity between them like the one between him and Ulquiorra.

"Nice to hear that you're really a man, if you get my drift." Grimmjow gave him a toothy grin.

The Octava Espada stared at him blankly. "What are you talking about?"

"Feh! As if you don't know, you sly dog." Grimmjow slung his arm over Szayel's shoulder. "You're banging that woman right under Ulquiorra and Aizen-sama's noses—talk about gutsy. Didn't think you had it in ya!"

"WHAT?" Szayel's eyes widened, desperate to comprehend what he'd just heard.

Grimmjow chuckled. "So," he said, a wicked glint in his eyes that concerned the Octava Espada more than he cared to admit, "did you spice it up a bit? You know, a little bondage, some discipline, maybe role playing? Anything?" Szayel glared at his questions. "All right, you don't want to talk about it. Whatever! But seriously, I had my concerns for a while. I thought you were playing for the other team, if you know what I mean."

"You do realize, Grimmjow," Szayel said, grinning widely, "there are those who, as you would put it, play for both teams."

Grimmjow's face paled considerably. Szayel raised an eyebrow, almost daring the Sexta Espada to prove him wrong. Noticing his hand was still slung over the other Espada's shoulder, Grimmjow pulled his arm away, as if he had been burnt. Szayel laughed inwardly at the look on his face, a mixture of horror with a bit of disgust.

"You're sick, you know that!" Grimmjow yelled, then sonido-ed away.

Szayel's mouth turned downward as he considered Grimmjow's words. He was sick? How was that disgusting when the Sexta Espada was the one talking about "banging" some woman? No, not just some woman—Orihime, of all people!

Only then did he notice the chatter around him from the other Arrancar. Granted, some of what was being said wasn't too far from the truth. But most of it seemed to follow the same line of thought as Grimmjow's.

He could almost feel a vein popping out on his forehead. With clenched fists, he headed to his domain. Szayel searched a couple of drawers and, when he found what he was looking for, put the object in his pocket. When he was finished, he slammed the door and made his way over to the only being he knew would start something this ridiculous.

* * *

"_Hey Szayel, have you ever played a game called 'telephone'?" Orihime asked, while they waited for Ulquiorra to return from his mission._

_He shook his head, shifting himself into a more comfortable position on the couch. How was she able to sleep on this thing was beyond his scope of understanding. "I've never heard of it."_

_She gasped, her eyes wide. "Never? Well, I suppose it makes sense," she said, pulling the blankets up to her chin. "I don't think the Arrancar would have time to play games."_

"_Not the games you'd think of, anyway," he added._

_She tilted her head, confused._

"_Anyway," he said, waving his hand dismissively, "what's this 'telephone' game you were speaking of?"_

"_Oh yes!" She took her hands out from under the covers and began gesturing as she spoke. "It's actually called a couple of different things, depending on who you play it with. I've also heard it called 'operator' and 'grapevine' and a couple of other names. I can't really remember them all. Anyway, what you do is have a group of people—at the very least ten, if you want the game to be really good—and you sit in a circle. Then one person is chosen, and they have to think of something to tell the others."_

"_Such as?"_

_Orihime shrugged. "It doesn't matter what's said. Usually, it's something about one of the other people in the group. For example, if I started the game, I could say, 'Szayel has pink hair' or something to that effect."_

"_You have a very unhealthy obsession with the fact that my hair is pink."_

"_Well, I don't know too many guys who could pull it off. I mean, think about it! Imagine if Ulquiorra or Grimmjow or even Aizen...-san had pink hair!" She giggled a bit, probably imagining all three with hair a lovely shade of pink._

_Szayel thought about it and chuckled; he had to admit, it was laughable, particularly in Aizen's case. No one would take him seriously, as least for a little while._

_He cleared his throat. "We're going off on a tangent here."_

"_You're the one who started it! I was just happily explaining the process of the game," Orihime said, a lilt in her voice. "Where was I? Oh yes! The first person thinks of a phrase, then tells the person next to them the phrase, but they can only say it once. Then that person tells the person next to them and so on and so on. Eventually, the phrase goes around the circle until it gets to the only person who hasn't heard the sentence, the person sitting on the other side of the person who started it. Then that person has to stand up and say what they heard."_

"_And the point of the game is...?"_

"_What usually happens is that the phrase at the end doesn't match up with the original. Now that I think about it, that's kind of the point of the game. It teaches you how rumors are started, and how, by word of mouth, an innocent phrase like, 'Tanaka-san likes Honda-san' can turn into 'Tanaka-san has been cheating on Honda-san with Suzuki-san, and she's pregnant with his child.'"_

_His eyes widened. "I see."_

"_That's why I don't bother listening to rumors," she said, nodding her head resolutely. "If I really want to know, I'll just ask the person myself." She leaned into the plush backing of the couch and gazed at the ceiling._

_He looked at her profile, her eyelashes brushing against her skin with every blink, and smiled. "I agree completely."_

* * *

Szayel found himself in front of Nnoitra's domain. It was more elaborate than he ever hoped his could be, but he wasn't surprised. It was one of the many perks received as an Arrancar went up the ranks.

He banged on the door and waited for it to open. After a minute, he was tempted to knock again when the door opened a crack, just enough for Tesla's head to pop out. He stared at the Octava Espada blankly.

"Szayel Aporro-sama," he said, and lowered his head respectfully. But he didn't open the door any wider. "I'm sorry, but Nnoitra-sama isn't here right now. I'll be sure to let him know you stopped by." He paused for a moment, then smiled. "By the way, congratulations. When is it due?"

Szayel'd been expecting to hear some of the same rumors he'd caught drift of from the other Arrancar on his way there. But he got the feeling this was something entirely new. "Excuse me?"

"Maybe the woman didn't tell you yet," Tesla said. "And here I went and ruined the surprise." Apparently, the confusion was still clearly written on Szayel's face, because he added, "You know, the baby? When is it due?"

Szayel decided he'd had enough of this nonsense. "Tesla, either you open that door and move out of my way, or I'll move the door and you myself," he said, what little patience he had evaporating completely. "And once I've done that, I'll strap you to one of my laboratory tables and dissect you for 48 hours straight. It's your decision."

Tesla stood there stiffly, debating whether that was a worse fate than the one he'd incur if he disobeyed Nnoitra's orders.

"Let him in, you idiot," Nnoitra said from inside. "It's only Szayel. Leave us."

Tesla nodded. He opened the door all the way before exiting the room.

Szayel walked in, rather wary of being there for too long. He tried to ignore the random bits of clothing, most looking vaguely like the uniform Halibel wore, scattered around the room.

"So, what brings you to my do—?" Nnoitra wasn't able to finish his question when he was punched firmly in the gut, thrown to the other side of the room.

Szayel straightened, bringing his arms back to their position behind him. He sighed contently, smirking. So that was why they found sparring so enjoyable.

After a moment, Nnoitra stood and brushed himself off, still clutching his stomach. "What the heck was that for? And how the hell were you able to hurt me? My hierro—"

"—is the strongest of any of the Espada," Szayel finished for him. "We know. But just like any defense, it's not completely infallible. All you need do is find the weak spots and attack. It's like there's no defense system to begin with." He brought his left hand in front of him, showing the Nnoitra his gloved hand. The pattern on the glove was different than his normal one.

"You made a glove to break through my hierro's defenses? What the hell? Why would you need to make something like that?"

"You can never be too prepared," Szayel said, and Nnoitra raised an eyebrow. "But that's not what I'm here for."

Nnoira walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. "What is it then?"

"Why did you spread that ridiculous rumor? The one about Orihime and myself." Szayel couldn't bring himself to say the whole thing.

Nnoitra grinned. "The one about you banging Pet-sama, you mean?"

"Do you have to put it in such crude terms? Then again, this is you we're talking about. I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Szayel said, not bothering to hide his disgust.

"I'm not the one who started it—that rumor, I mean," Nnoitra said as he stood, walking over Szayel. "Actually, it's a really funny story—"

"I'm not laughing."

"And here you always said you were the one with a sense of humor! Anyways," he continued, "I was with Halibel in her domain about a week or so ago, you know, having a little—"

Szayel's face turned a shade of green. "Spare me the details," he said, holding his hand up. "What about it?"

Nnoitra chuckled, amused at the Octava Espada's reaction. "It was afterwards, and suddenly we heard this pattering on the ceiling. Well, her domain is one of the few with a window, so we look outside. And low and behold, it's raining."

"I hope there's a point to this story."

"I'm getting there, I'm getting there, if you would quit interrupting!" Nnoitra said, somewhat irked. "Anyway, we see that it's raining; I suggest we ignore it and get back to what we were doing when all of a sudden she tells me that Pet-sama is outside in the rain. I couldn't believe her myself. But you know, she has eyes like a hawk, and you know what? She was right! Then a few seconds later I see a pink-haired speck joining her, and I knew it was you. I asked Halibel what was going on and she said, all calm and serious, 'Szayel and that woman are holding hands,' and DAMN! I tell you, I nearly fainted. I told her, 'He's holding hands with a woman? That's almost like Szayel and Pet-sama getting it on or something!' And then, well..."

"Well?" Szayel demanded. He didn't like where this was going.

"One of Halibel's fraccion came in at that moment—I can't remember her name now—to let her know that she had a mission, and I guess she only heard the last bit of our conversation, and...well, you know the rest."

"I don't believe you."

"Tch! Then don't believe me," Nnoitra said, shrugging carelessly, "But if the rumor wasn't true to begin with, why do you care? If you really had banged her, you wouldn't have done nothin', and even if you didn't, you still wouldn't have done nothin', just like with all those other times." He paused, his eyes wide. "Wait...it's not about you, is it? It's about her! You couldn't care less if someone were to sully your name, unless they said you were a bad scientist or something. But if it's her? That's a different story."

"That's preposterous," Szayel said, with a roll of his eyes. "That has nothing to do with it. Personally, I'd rather not have Aizen-sama and Ulquiorra after my head—"

"Yes, I'm sure you'd like to keep both of them intact."

"Besides," he continued, ignoring Nnoitra's comment, "Orihime's just a participant. She means nothing to me."

Szayel'd had quite enough of Nnoitra's antics. He turned around, ready to return to his domain.

"Nothing to you, huh? Bullshit, Szayel! I've known you for a lot longer than you'd like to admit, and I've never heard you refer to one of your little guinea pigs as 'participants.'" The Octava Espada stopped in his tracks. "What, you didn't think I was listening to your rant about the importance of semantics? 'Never refer to these trash as participants. It elevates them to our level; it makes them equal with us. They're specimens, and perhaps if one shows potential, then they can be called a "subject." But never, under any circumstances, will we ever have the pleasure of having a participant in our realms.' That's what you told me, wasn't it?"

Szayel didn't turn around. His voice sounded odd and distant. "Then it would appear I was wrong, wasn't I?"

With that, he closed the door to Nnoitra's domain behind him.

"Yeah, I guess you were wrong," Nnoitra repeated, and walked to one of the more private rooms in his domain.

* * *

"Szayel-sama?" TREA asked.

Szayel glared at the cube out the corner of his eye. "What do you want, TREA? If you're going to ask me again to make you a human-esque body so you can 'attract the ladies,' don't bother. I'm not in the mood."

He rested an elbow on a table while he rubbed his temples. This was why he despised rumors. They were always more trouble than they were worth.

"Is Orihime-chan going to visit me again any time soon? It feels like it's been forever since I've seen her," TREA said sadly.

Szayel frowned. "I don't know. It's not outside the realm of possibility, I suppose."

There was a long moment of silence; he relished it, though he'd never appreciated it much before as he did now. Unfortunately, it didn't last.

"You really like Orihime-chan, don't you?"

Considering the things Szayel had heard he'd done to Orihime, this was nothing. And yet it affected him more than any of the rumors. "No, TREA. She's just a partici—sub—" He paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. "She's important to Aizen-sama and my experiment. That's all."

"Right." For some reason, Szayel could imagine the cube rolling its eyes, except that it didn't have any eyes to roll. "You keep telling yourself that, Szayel-sama."

"And why exactly, TREA, do you think I 'like' Orihime? What evidence do you have that would suggest this?" he asked, walking over to the cube, his arms folded over his chest.

"Well," TREA said, "you're really nice to her—"

"It's part of the experiment."

"And you give her an awful lot of things—"

"Experiment," Szayel repeated firmly.

"Not to mention you start perspiring considerably, your pupils dilate, and you put out pheromones at ten times the normal rate. But other than that?" TREA said sarcastically. "I guess I have nothing,"

A strangled noise came from the Espada's throat. "W-W-What? How the hell do you know that? Besides," he said, slightly accosted, "that's not true!"

"You know, there's no need to drown in a proverbial river in Egypt," TREA pointed out. "There's nothing wrong with having feelings for Orhime-chan. I think it's a good thing." It paused. "Whatever you decide, Szayel-sama, if you ever decide to acknowledge your feelings or whatever, just don't hurt her. I don't want to see Orihime-chan hurt. She's too kind a soul to have to deal with rejection."

"Rejection?" Szayel repeated. "What does her powers have anything to do with it?"

TREA groaned. "Not that kind of rejection. Sheesh! Do I have to spell it out for you? I guess those glasses really are just for show."

Szayel waited for the cube to continue, but it remained silent. Apparently TREA was done dealing with him and had shut itself off.

With a shrug, he walked to his private quarters for some rest. He never felt like it before—there were usually too many things to keep his mind stimulated under normal circumstances—but today was anything but normal. He opened the door, looking at the bed with anticipation, when he noticed something sitting in a chair at his desk.

His eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Octava Espada."


	12. I Heard It Through the Grapevine

"Oi, Ulquiorra? Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra!"

Ulquiorra winced. "What is it, Yami?"

"Well, damn!" Yami said, scratching his head. "I've been calling you for a minute, and you haven't answered me! I said, did you hear the latest rumor that's going arou—"

Ulquiorra sighed softly. "I did not answer you because your question did not deem worthy to be answered. Honestly, Yami, I cannot comprehend your fascination with those snippets of rumors that float about Las Noches." The Decima Espada stared at him blankly. Apparently, the verbiage was a bit over his head. "I don't know why you like listening to those stupid rumors."

Yami shrugged as they continued to the Espada lounge. Ulquiorra was less than pleased with the idea of going there, but somehow—he wasn't quite sure how—Yami had convinced him that he needed to spend more time with the others. Something about how the woman was starting to make him weak; Ulquiorra hadn't been paying attention.

Or maybe he just wanted Yami to shut up.

When they entered the room, they found Stark lying on one of the couches, taking up the whole thing. Lillinette, surprisingly, was not by his side. Near the back wall Barragan sat cross-legged, muttering under his breath.

"What was that?" Ulquiorra demanded, as he and Yami took a seat in one of the unoccupied chairs.

"What an honor it is to have the high and mighty Cuarta Espada join us," Barragan said, his eyes narrowed under his bushy brows. "What, were we not good enough for you until now?"

"Now, now, that's enough. I'm sure Ulquiorra had his reasons for not coming here before," Stark said calmly, placing an arm over his eyes. "Either way, it is a pleasant surprise to see you."

A moment passed before Ulquiorra turned to Yami. "I've had enough of this. Come, Yami. We're leaving." Ulquiorra stood up, waiting for him to follow. Yami groaned.

"See what I told ya? High and mighty!" Barragan said as they made their way to the door. "Even though Yami's an Espada, you still go on and treat him like he was your fraccion."

Ulquiorra turned around, glaring coldly. "I don't see how that is any of your business. Besides, it's not as though he takes issue with it."

Barragan stood and crossed the room until he was a foot away, towering over the Cuarta Espada. "I wonder what he has to say about that. If you keep assuming for the people around you, it's going to come back and bite you in the ass one of these days."

Yami laughed nervously. "Look, I don't really care how Ulquiorra treats me. He—"

"Well, you should care," Barragan said. "You're an Espada! Even if you're only the Decima, you need to have some pride in yourself, damn it!"

Stark sighed, pushing himself from the couch. "Tch! Honestly, if we all would just mind our own business—"

At that moment Aaroniero showed up, pushing his way past the three Espada in the doorway.

"Did you hear the news?" asked the lower of the two voices.

"I didn't think you liked leaving your domain. Whatever news it is, it's obviously big," Stark said.

"Szayel is sleeping with that woman Aizen-sama brought in from the human world," cried the higher-pitched voice gleefully.

Ulquiorra's eyes widened as he processed what he heard, then turned his eyes narrowed to Yami. "Was this the rumor you were trying to tell me about?"

Yami shook his head, sweat forming on his forehead. "Uh, no. The rumor I heard was that the woman was pregnant with his child."

"What?" Ulquiorra said, his voice significantly lower than normal.

Yami and Aaroniero found it wise to leave as quickly as possible, less they feel the wrath of an Espada who, unfortunately, did not hold the belief of "not killing the messenger." Aaronniero, being the closest to the door, was able to make a quick getaway to his domain. Yami wasn't as lucky.

"Where did you hear this?" Ulquiorra demanded, blocking the doorframe.

"Um, I heard it from this one Arrancar, who heard it from the Arrancar who makes our uniforms, who heard it from the Arrancar who makes our shoes, who heard it from—"

"Did you ever find the original source?"

Yami nodded. "Yeah. Apparently that one Arrancar—Loli, I think? The one that's always around Aizen-sama? Seems she told the cook and...yeah. Why do you want to know, Ul—?"

But Ulquiorra had already gone, searching for the Arrancar in question. Why would she start such a rumor? Though he knew she didn't think highly of Szayel, he had no doubts this was to get back at Orihime more than anything else.

His fists clenched inside his pockets. The only place she could be was Aizen's throne room. But to his dismay, she wasn't there; however, that other Arrancar that was usually with her was. Menoli, he recalled, slowing down from his sonido. He walked up to her in a calm rage.

Menoli froze. She sensed his reiatsu the moment he had walking into the room. Blushing, she bowed. "I-Is there something I can help you with, Ulquiorra-sama?"

"Where is that other Arrancar?"

She averted her gaze. "I-I'm not sure who you mea—"

"The one you're usually with," Ulquiorra said. "The one who insists on hanging on Aizen-sama, as though he would care about trash like her."

Menoli's eyes widened. Ulquiorra was known to never lose his composure. Whatever it was he needed Loli for must've been serious. She gulped. "I don't know where Loli is. Is...this about that rumor? The one about that woman being pregnant?"

"With the Octava Espada's child," he said, taking his hands out of his pockets. He folded them across his chest.

"With...the Octava Espada? I thought Szayel-sama was gay," she said, blinking. "Anyway, that's not what Loli said. I was there helping the cook. Of course, what she said wasn't any better..."

"And what was that, exactly?"

"Just that she thought that the woman was pregnant," Menoli said, fidgeting nervously. "She noticed that the woman was sick, so she said something like, 'Oh, I bet she's pregnant, that...'" She stopped, then cleared her throat. "A-Anyway, that's all she said. Then that blabbermouth of a cook had to go and tell someone and, well..."

Ulquiorra frowned. "Then where did this other rumor come from?"

"There was a rumor that started a few days ago about the Octava Espada and that woman sleeping together. Maybe the two got mixed. That seems a bit more plausible to me," she said, nodding slightly. "Many Arrancar say they've seen the two walking and talking together more frequently these past few weeks. I suppose it's possible for even Szayel-sama to get close to someone. After all, I'm sure he also...has...urges..."

"I see," he said after a moment, putting his hands back into his pockets. As he exited the room, Ulquiorra called back to her, "I do not have the time, so tell your comrade that she should mind what she says in the future, or it will be the last thing she ever says."

* * *

_Ulquiorra rapped on the door, and a few seconds later, it creaked open. _

_The spherical fraccion stepped out of the room. "What does the Cuarta Espada want with Szayel Aporro-sama?"_

"_I have to speak with him. It's a matter of the utmost urgency."_

_The Fraccion looked at each other, and then nodded. Lumina and Verona pushed the doors open, wide enough to allow him entry. Walking inside, he looked around the Octava Espada's domain as they rushed past him._

"_To what do I owe this visit, Ulquiorra?" Szayel asked, coming out from one of the rooms down the hall, heading towards him._

_Ulquiorra's frown deepened. "I have...a request."_

_Szayel raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" He stopped. "And that would be?_

"_As you aware, it is my duty to watch the woman until Aizen-sama decides to make use of her. However, I have been assigned a mission, one that will leave her unattended for some time."_

"_And this is so horrible thing because...?"_

"_Nnoitra knows where her room is," Ulquiorra said, speaking the Quinta Espada's name with obvious disgust._

"_I see," Szayel said, after a brief pause. "And what does this have to do with me?"_

"_I told Aizen-sama of this predicament, and he agreed that the woman shouldn't be left alone. In the event this mission takes longer than predicted, he suggested another Espada take my place as her guard until I return. He said he would trust my judgement in choosing my replacement."_

_Szayel smirked. "And you chose me? I'm flattered."_

"_Don't take it the wrong way," Ulquiorra said quickly. "I don't like the idea of you being her guard, but I was left with no other choice. The top three Espada are on similar missions, Grimmjow would have no patience with her, and Yami...I wouldn't trust him with a responsibility of this magnitude."_

"_What about Zommari?"_

_Ulquiorra shook his head. "Finding him is impossible. As you can see, I didn't have a choice."_

"_You're too kind," Szayel muttered flatly._

_Ulquiorra looked at him, confused. "You are surprisingly apathetic towards this arrangement."_

"_Of course," Szayel said, running his fingers through his hair. "She's just some human, isn't she? Granted, that power of hers is quite...unique. Oh, what I wouldn't do to get her into my lab, to have her restrained to one of the dissection tables, the glint of the scalpel as I run the smooth side of it down her cheek, just enough to see the fear reflecting in her eyes. And then...the real fun would begin."_

_Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed._

"_But I won't be able to study her powers the way I want to, so why get excited about it?" Szayel said, pulling himself back. "I'm sure you've already told Aizen-sama you would choose me as your replacement, and he probably gave some stipulation that if anything were to happen to her, there would be a new Octava Espada. Correct?"_

_Ulquiorra nodded. "That's correct. She's not allowed outside her room either."_

"_Damn." Szayel sighed. "So, instead of working on the experiments Aizen-sama has requested of me—and a couple of my own that I'm working on—I have to take time to babysit some woman. Yes, that sounds like so much fun." His eyes narrowed. "You owe me."_

"_Only if you do your job correctly."_

* * *

How cruelly ironic life could be. And so here he was again, at the entrance to the Octava Espada's domain, only this time there were no doors to keep him out. Stepping inside, he noticed a pile of rubble in a corner of the room.

Then he saw Lumina and Verona bound up to him. "Ulquiorra-san! Szayel Aporro-sama isn't here at the moment! You're going to need to—" They stopped when they noticed his withering glare in their direction. Gulping, they turned around and went the other way, far from the Espada whose eyes promised them a slow, painful death.

If Szayel wasn't there, Ulquiorra would have to wait until he arrived. He looked down the main hall, at the doors on either side and at the very end. Going to the first door on the left, he was somewhat taken aback to find a garden, the same garden Orihime had told him about numerous times. Most of the foliage was either wilted or dead, but there was still an undeniable beauty there. He closed the door and went to the door across from it only to find a library, filled to the ceiling with books.

Shaking his head, he closed the door. What was he doing? All this searching was getting him no where. Finally, he looked to the door at the end of the hall. He walked past the numerous doors, ignoring the muffled sounds from behind a couple of them, until he got to the end.

This must've been Szayel's main laboratory, Ulquiorra decided, taking in the different machines and tools strewn about the room. Off to one side he noticed a little table with a clipboard. He picked it up and started reading.

_Subject: Inoue Orihime  
Species: Human  
Age: 16 years old  
Sex: Female  
Height: 157 cm  
Weight: approximately 44 kilograms  
Family: Mother and Father (situation unknown), older brother (deceased; seems to have been the substitute parental figure during development), distant relatives  
Physical Characteristics: Soft orange hair held back with two light blue clips, brown eyes, smooth skin, exaggerated chest  
Other characteristics: Blushes easily, intelligent, observant, inquisitive, amusing sense of humor, frequently apologizes (submissive?), very warm, uncomfortable with familiarity, demure, eccentric, radiating light/life from her entire being..._

"What...?" His eyes continued scanning the pages.

"Hey! Don't you have any manners, Emo Clown? Those are Szayel-sama's things you're going through, you know!" TREA said, from its spot on the pedestal in the center of the room.

Ulquiorra faced the cube and glared. "It would do you well to keep quiet, machine." He turned back to the clipboard and continued reading.

_Experiment 3: Exposure to other living organisms  
Methods: An environment was created to replicate the natural environment of the participant, using various flora and fauna. The different types are listed on the next page. The plants were genetically modified in order for them to survive the harsh environment of Hueco Mundo and so that their maturation cycles were synchronized, but no other changes were made.  
Null hypothesis: There will be no change in the participant's behavior.  
Alternative Hypothesis: The participant will exhibit behavior characteristic of happiness and/or elation._

He flipped the page, only to find the next one blank. Unlike the other two experiments, the third experiment cut off right there—no results section, no comments, nothing. Odd, considering Szayel's reputation for being meticulous with every facet of his experiments.

Ulquiorra walked over to the cube. "Where's the rest of it?" He waited a few seconds, but the machine didn't respond. "Cube, I said, where is the rest of the Octava Espada's report?"

"First you threaten me to keep quiet, and now you're threatening me to answer? Make up your mind, will ya?" TREA said, exasperated. "There is no more, Emo Clown."

"What do you mean, there's no more? This report is at least—"

TREA sighed. "I mean, there's no more. That's all Szayel-sama ever filled out. After that incident, he never touched that clipboard again."

"Why?" Ulquiorra threw the clipboard back on the table.

TREA laughed knowingly. It unnerved the Cuarta Espada more than he cared to admit. "Why? Goodness, are all Arrancar this blind or just you and Szayel-sama? It's obvious why! It's because he stopped seeing Orihime-chan as some experiment, some subject. He started viewing her as his equal. And even more than that..."

Ulquiorra waited for the cube continue. "More than that...?"

"Szayel-sama started liking her, which I thought that was quite impossible. But you know, even I can be wrong from time to time," TREA said. "Add to the fact that you like Orhime-chan too, and we have one hell of a love triangle!"

"I don't have feelings for—"

"Pft, please!" TREA exclaimed. "Why else would you be skulking around here, waiting for Szayel-sama to return? It's because you're jealous of him! Though I guess in this case it's doesn't matter how you two feel about her, but how Orihime-chan feels about the two of you. Even I can't figure out her feelings for you guys."

Ulquiorra said nothing, having had enough of TREA's ridiculousness. He was about to open the door to Szayel's private quarters.

"Hey, what makes you think I'm not going to tell Szayel-sama you've been in here?"

"Because you prefer staying in one piece," he said, a sharp edge to his voice.

TREA laughed nervously. "Too true! Too true! My proverbial mouth is zipped."

Ulquiorra walked into the dark room. His eyes adjusted quickly. The room looked completely disused, though the covers had been taken off and laid on top of the bed in a small bundle. His eyes narrowed at the sight. He took a seat in one of the chairs at Szayel's desk and closed his eyes. TREA's words reminded him of a conversation he'd had with Orihime only a couple of days ago.

"_You'd prefer Szayel as your guard, wouldn't you?"_

_Orihime's eyes widened. "I don't know why you'd think that, Ul—"_

"_You're always going on about him," he said bitterly._

_She smiled. "That doesn't mean I'd prefer him as my guard over you. I like Ulquiorra for Ulquiorra and Szayel for Szayel." She blushed faintly. "I can't compare my like for the two of you. They're not the same."_

He shook his head. Foolishness. After a while he heard the door open, a bit of light pouring into the room. Szayel stared at him, confused, before his eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Octava Espada."

Before the Szayel had a chance to react, Ulquiorra pointed his finger at him and released a cero. The force threw the Octava Espada back, through the walls of his domain, and into one of the hallways. He stood up and sonido-ed to where Szayel lay on the ground, struggling to get up as he clutched at his stomach.

"Prepare yourself, Szayel," he spat. "I'm not holding back."


	13. The Butterfly Effect

Szayel groaned as he struggled to push himself off the floor. He probably should've predicted this. He supposed he was lucky, in a way, that Ulquiorra hadn't used his full strength, otherwise he would've been nothing more than a pile of ash on the floor. Still, getting hit by a cero head-on wasn't exactly a walk in the park.

Just as he was about to move to a standing position, he heard Ulquiorra sonido towards him. Szayel looked up. Ulquiorra glared at him, a ruthless look on his face.

"Prepare yourself, Szayel," he spat. "I'm not holding back." The moment he finished the sentence he let out another cero, to the spot the Octava Espada had been only moments before.

Szayel leaned against one of the walls in the hallway, sighing. But it was short lived. He shouldn't have need that much energy to sonido. Then again, considering his body hadn't been prepared, he supposed it made sense the action would be draining.

"Running away?" Ulquiorra asked, taking a couple of steps towards him.

Szayel scoffed. "It's not in the nature of an Espada to run away, now is it?"

He pulled himself to his full height—which was quite a feat, considering the damage he'd already incurred—and slid his zanpakutou out. In doing so, he noticed for the first time the state of his uniform. The top was barely hanging on by a few threads, his gloves were completely gone, and his hakama were more than slightly singed.

If he didn't know any better, he would've sworn he saw Ulquiorra smirk. But as fast as it appeared, it was gone again. Without warning he lunged at Szayel with his hand. While using his zanpakutou, it took all his strength to push Ulquiorra back. Even then, Szayel still received some of the damage from Ulquiorra's attack.

Damn. There was no way he could hold his own against Ulquiorra, even if he hadn't been on the receiving end of a cero. Sparring of this nature was never a strength of his.

After the first minute, he cut off what little remained of his top. He didn't like the idea of being exposed, but the fabric had become a hindrance. They continued in this manner for a while. During this time a group of lower-level Arrancar, who had apparently heard the ruckus from a couple of halls away, had come to watch the ongoing fight.

If it could be called a fight. Fighting would imply two fighters throwing attacks at one another; this was not a fight. They probably just came to see someone get the crap beat out of them.

The only thing Szayel could do in his condition was to guard from the flurry of Ulquiorra's attacks. Even then, a couple of the attacks pierced through. He heard the cheers of the lower-leveled Arrancar, but forced himself to block it out.

Focus, he told himself, ignoring the pain in his wrist. There were more ways to fight than with swords and physical attacks. Those kind of attacks could wound much deeper, took longer to heal.

Szayel smirked. "I thought you said you weren't going to hold back."

"It isn't in my nature to rush," Ulquiorra said, an unusual edge to his voice. His attacks slowed to a fraction of their original speed.

Soft chuckling echoed throughout the halls. The other Arrancar murmured in confusion at the Szayel's laughter. "How ironic. Despite our differences, we're more alike than either of us would care to admit."

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You haven't noticed the...sadistic streak both of us possess?" The barrage of attacks ceased, for the meantime anyway. "Unless, of course," Szayel continued, noticing how close to home the words were hitting, "you don't think that killing your target in a slow, agonizing manner isn't cruel. You know what the only difference is between you and me? At least I'm willing to admit that I'm sadistic," he said, and catching Ulquiorra off-guard, slashed him quickly. A fine scratch appeared on his cheek, perpendicular to the green tear marks staining his face.

The other Arrancar murmured in surprise, mixed with a bit of awe.

"I wonder," Szayel said, before he could stop himself, "what Orihime would think if she knew what her precious guard-san was truly like."

Suddenly, he found himself pinned to the wall, Ulquiorra's hand clenched around his neck. Not enough to cut off his air supply, but uncomfortable nonetheless. Ulquiorra glared at him with a wrath none had ever seen.

"Bastard. I have to wonder the same about you, Szayel," he said, his grip tightening. He leaned in, so only the two of them could hear. "Were you just going to throw her away, like she was a damn guinea pig, when you were done screwing with her head?"

Szayel's eyes narrowed. "You don't know what you're talking about. You wouldn't understand."

"I understand enough," Ulquiorra said, louder than before. He released Szayel and, taking a few steps back, pointed his finger at his chest. "If you are in such a hurry to die, I will not stop you. This ends now."

Szayel quickly took his zanpakutou and brought it to his mouth, cursing inwardly. He hadn't wanted to release against someone like him. But unless he did, he knew he wouldn't stand a chance against Ulquiorra's cero.

And even in his released form, he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand against Ulquiorra. Just as he was about to release his cero and Szayel was about to finish the phrase for his release, a calm voice called out.

"What the hell is going on?"

The lower-level Arrancar departed, scattering this way and that. Once the hall had been cleared, the two Espada's eyes widened as their gaze fell upon a visibly perturbed Halibel. The cero forming on Ulquiorra's finger disappeared. Szayel placed his zanpakutou back into its sheath.

"Fighting in such a manner," she said, disapproval coloring her voice. Her heels echoed in the hall as she got closer. She glared at them, her arms folded across her chest. "You dare call yourselves Espada?"

Neither of them looked at her.

"Szayel, go to the woman to get healed," she said. She pointed down the hall, in the direction of Orihime's room. "That, or eat one of those fraccion of yours. I don't care which."

After a moment, he started slowly moving until he was out of sight, leaving the Tercer and Cuarta Espada alone.

"Why did you intervene?" Ulquiorra asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I returned the favor. That is all," Halibel said, but her words seemed to confuse him. "That one mission. At that time, you—"

"I know what favor you meant. I told you repayment was unnecessary and, more importantly, unwanted. What I am uncertain of is how this is a 'repayment.'"

"If the Octava Espada had died, even someone like you, as close as you are to Aizen-sama, wouldn't get away without some kind of severe punishment. If you were any other Arrancar, you'd be killed without hesitation. But because it is you, he might just take you down a couple of ranks—or perhaps remove you from your post as that woman's guard," she said, noticing Ulquiorra's eyes widen. "Now you understand why I did what I did."

"Hm." He turned his back to her, about to return to his domain, when her words stopped him.

"Why were you fighting with him in the first place? Does it have to do with that woman, with the rumors going around about the two of them?"

There was an strange look in his eyes, almost like confusion. "Yes...and no." This time, it was Halibel who raised her eyebrow. "It's not just one thing, but the culmination of many. It's...complicated."

"I see." She shook her head, her eyes closed. "What is that woman doing to the two of you?"

With that, she walked back the way she came, leaving Ulquiorra alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Szayel made his way to Orihime's room. The pain from his wounds didn't register in his mind, at least not yet. He supposed he could've eaten one of his fraccion, but then he would miss the opportunity to see this power of hers firsthand. It was the one thing he'd been anxious to investigate since the first time he'd met her, but he could never figure out how to get her to exhibit her power.

When he opened her door, he was somewhat taken aback to find Orihime standing right in front of him. Apparently, she'd sensed his reiatsu for sometime, coming closer to her, and prepared herself for his visit. But it seemed she hadn't expected him to come to her in his current state.

She gasped softly, her hand covering her mouth. Then, taking his hands gently, mindful of the numerous abrasions, she pulled him into the room and shut the door. She brought him to the couch, indicating he should have a seat. Szayel complied, though in the back of his mind he protested at the thought of his blood staining her bed-couch.

"Shun'ou. Ayame," she said, and touched the clips on the side of her head. Two fairies formed from the points of her pins and created a small yellow shield over him. She placed her hands above the barrier, focused on reversing the damage. "What happened? Who did this?"

Her shield was warm, he realized disconnectedly, as he looked at her shield. Just like her.

Her hands were as shaky as her voice sounded. Szayel waited a moment, watching her eyebrows furrow in concentration, before answering, "A sparring session with Ulquiorra gone out of hand. It's nothing to worry about." Orihime looked up from her work; clearly, she was less than convinced. "I assure you, it's not as bad as it—"

He looked down. A number of deep gashes riddled his body, not to mention his skin was singed from the Ulquiorra's cero—and who knew what else. Had he been a human, or even a lower-level Arrancar, he would've been dead from less.

"Okay," he said finally, "it is as bad as it looks."

Orihime closed her eyes and laughed a little, though it was devoid of any humor. Sweat formed on her brow. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, frowning. "It's...so hard...to reject. It's like there's another reiatsu wrapped up inside your own that's keeping me from healing you."

"That sounds like Ulquiorra," he said, rolling his eyes. "Seems I'll just have to heal myself through other means—"

"No," she said, her jaw clenched as she looked at him, determined. "I can do this. I know I can." She went back to work, her eyes closed as she concentrated even harder.

More sweat formed, and Szayel could tell the attempted healing was taking a toll on her body. She leaned over him, as if she were about to faint. "Orihime, that's enough. You shouldn't overexert yourself for something so foolish. I'll heal on my own."

All he needed was one fraccion, and he would be as good as new.

"No." This time, there a strange edge to her voice that he'd never heard before. Almost like desperation. "I can't...I won't...Please," Orihime said, her eyes shining. "I can do this. Just...talk to me. I just...the silence is becoming overwhelming."

Szayel sighed heavily. He could still overpower her, even in his injured state, but her eyes—they were so resolute. He couldn't do it. Eventually, he nodded, noticing her smile as he did. They sat in silence for a moment, the shield basking the two of them in a soft warm light as he thought of some topic of conversation.

She was always the better conversation initiator, he decided, feeling Ulquiorra's reiatsu slowly but surely unweave from inside his wounds.

"Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?"

"I don't think you're asking me about that really badly done American movie, are you?" she asked, forcing a bit of humor into her voice.

Szayel smiled at her joke, even though he had no idea what she was talking about. But he understood her need for humor in this type of situation, even if to an outsider it would seem out of place.

"No. It refers to the idea that a butterfly's wings might create tiny changes in the atmosphere that may ultimately alter the path of a tornado or delay, accelerate or even prevent the occurrence of a tornado in a certain location. The flapping wing represents a small change in the initial condition of the system, which causes a chain of events leading to large-scale alterations of events. Had the butterfly not flapped its wings, the trajectory of the system might have been vastly different. Of course, the butterfly cannot literally cause a tornado. The kinetic energy in a tornado is enormously larger than the energy in the turbulence of a butterfly. The kinetic energy of a tornado is ultimately provided by the sun and the butterfly can only influence certain details of weather events in a chaotic manner."

"Ah!" she exclaimed. "Finally, your wounds are starting to heal."

With a quick glance, Szayel saw they indeed were closing up, just as she'd said. The skin was forming, returning to the state before it'd been mangled by a certain Cuarta Espada. He looked at Orihime, who seemed a bit drained but no worse for the wear. Her body was less tense now that the hardest part was finished.

"I don't know. That sounds a bit far fetched, even for me, that a butterfly flapping can influence where there'll be a tornado," she said, and then looked at him. A pink tinge colored her cheeks, for reasons he couldn't understand.

He shook his head. "It's only a theory. Besides, the principle makes more sense in a philosophical viewpoint, that the small events we take for granted can have huge consequences in the future, more so than a scientific one."

Szayel chuckled, earning him a confused look.

"What is it?" Orihime asked.

"I was just thinking: if Aizen-sama had never assigned Ulquiorra to that mission"—he paused, letting the suspense build before continuing—"we would've never met."

"I...suppose not..."

They sat there for a while, lost in their own thoughts as she finished healing his wounds. When the last gash closed up, she called back the two fairies. They returned to their original forms, as points on part of her flower clip.

"Thank you, Orihime," he said, standing up.

She did the same, her cheeks now a shade of red. "You're welcome, Szayel."

Szayel stared at her. He didn't notice any one thing in particular, but instead viewed the whole and approved of what he saw. Then he shook his head, as if to dispel those thoughts from his head. Turning around, he was about to head back to his domain when a pair of arms wrapped around his torso.

He flushed, his eyes wide. So, that was why she had been blushing—he had been shirtless the whole time. How did he not notice?

It was like being under her shield once again, except...not. He felt her warmth of his skin through the fabric of her uniform around his waist, on his back, and most notably, on his chest, where her bare hands rested. A mixture of pleasure and torture, that warmth that exuded from her. Szayel didn't know if he wanted her to continue holding onto him or to push her away.

"Orihime," he said, his voice cracking. Why was it cracking? And why was his mouth so dry? It reminded him of when she was sick, after she'd cleaned the stray rice grains from her fingertips. "You need to let go."

She shook her head, clutching onto him tighter. Her chest pushed into his back even more. Szayel had to force himself to stifle a moan—or whatever noise it was trying to escape his lips.

"I was so worried," she said, and rested her cheek on his back. He couldn't see her face, but he knew there were unshed tears forming in her eyes. "I could tell something was wrong. I could sense it the closer you got. There was something off about your reiatsu, but I couldn't figure out what. And then, when you opened the door, I just—I couldn't believe. I had a feeling it was bad, whatever it was making your reiatsu feel so off, but I didn't think it was anything that bad."

Szayel closed his eyes and felt her do the same. Her eyelashes fluttered against the skin on his back.

"Orihime, you need to let go," he repeated, his voice deeper than normal. If she didn't release him soon....

He didn't want to think about it.

She shook her head again. "It wasn't sparring gone wrong, was it? Ulquiorra—he did this to you on purpose, didn't he?"

He concentrated on forming his answer, but it was getting harder the longer she held onto him. "Yes."

Orihime nodded into his back, apparently satisfied with his answer.

She loosened her grip around his waist, but Szayel could already feel the last of his self-control snap. He grabbed her arms and pulled her around, so she was facing him. Then, holding her by the forearms, his lips were pressed against hers. He felt her body tense beneath his fingertips. And through half-closed eyes, he watched her eyes widen at the initial contact. But after a moment, her eyes slowly shut and Orihime relaxed, her hands holding onto his arms for support as she returned the kiss tentatively. Only then did he close his eyes, relishing the feeling of her lips on his, more than he thought possible.

He pressed her against the wall and released his grip on her arms. His hands held her head as his thumbs rubbed the apples of her cheeks. Soon, he felt her hands move up his arms, the left resting against his chest while the other moved to his head, pulling him closer as her fingers wove themselves into his hair. A few strands of her hair brushed against his chest, and he groaned, pushing until he was flush against her.

His tongue followed the line of her lips, demanding entrance; and she complied, stiffening as she felt his tongue enter. Szayel traced the inside of her mouth slowly, felt the small shivers coming from her body. He took pride that he was the one causing them. A minute later, he felt her tongue slide against his, uncertain and so much smaller than his, but undoing him more than he had her. He moaned against her lips.

Their lips parted. She let out a small whimper, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheek, as Szayel placed his mouth on her chin, his tongue making small circular motions, as if to lap up invisible raindrops from her skin. His left hand moved to her hips, making small circles into them that mirrored the actions of his tongue, while his right hand slid up her side, brushing against her breast. His mouth moved up her jawline, repeated the action for every inch of skin until he reached the juncture where her jaw met the lobe of her ear. Orihime shivered as his warm breath tickled her skin.

Szayel pulled back and watched the small pants coming from her lips, her face flushed and eyes glazed over. His fingers brushed over the collar of her uniform and undid the first button, then the next, until they were all undone. Orihime's eyes widened a bit, but she was unable to protest when he took her into his arms and placed his lips on her neck, carefully avoiding the chain of the necklace he'd given to her. She held onto him, pulling him closer, as he placed another kiss and another and another, her head arched back to allow him more entrance.

When he was finished, he rested his head in the crook of her neck, his eyes closed in pleasure as he listened to the rapid beating of her heart. And her fingers moved through his hair, brushing the strands gently. She sighed contently.

Somehow, Szayel knew nothing would ever be the same again.


	14. Monster

Orihime sat at the table, her head resting on its smooth cool surface. She hoped maybe it would help with the light throbbing that threatened to drive her crazy—it didn't. She squeezed her eyes shut and remembered the incident from a couple of days ago, her cheeks warmer than they'd been minutes ago.

She couldn't believe that she and Szayel...they had...

Even now the whole situation felt surreal. The feeling of his lips on hers, his tongue making slow, soft circles into the flesh of her neck. A shudder ran down her spine. This wasn't helping at all. With a sigh, she sat up.

What had she gotten herself into? Their kiss wasn't just _a_ kiss. It was a _kiss_. But what did that mean? Was it possible that she was starting to have feelings for—

She stopped herself before she could finish that particular thought. No, it couldn't be. He was their enemy. And yet, the more she tried to deny it, the clearer it was that...just maybe...she...

She crossed the room and lay down on the couch, staring up at the blank ceiling above her. But what about Szayel? He'd run out so suddenly that time. She hadn't seen him since.

"And that was a couple of days ago," she said to herself, her arm resting on her forehead. "Then again, Ulquiorra hasn't had a mission in a couple of days. So I guess he wouldn't have a reason to see me."

A loud creaking startled her from her thoughts. She sat up, alarmed. Turning her head to the door, she squinted at the bright light pouring into the room. It couldn't be Ulquiorra. He always announced when he was entering the room.

"Wh-Who is it?" she asked, getting up from the couch. "Sza—"

"O-ri-hi-me-chan," said a deceptively sweet voice. "Do you want to play?"

Orihime's eyes widened as two female Arrancar entered the room. They closed the door behind them with a resounding slam.

"Who are you?"

"Who are we?" asked the one with black hair in pigtails and maroon eyes. "We're not anybody important—obviously. Right, Menoli?"

The other Arrancar, with short dirty blonde hair, nodded. "That's right, Loli."

"As I said before, we want to play a game with you, Hime-chan," Loli said, slowly circling around her, as if Orihime was her prey.

She gulped. A bead of sweat rolled down her face. She knew she would regret it, but she had to ask, "What kind of game?"

Loli turned to Menoli, smirking widely, before backhanding Orihime, sending her into the table she'd been sitting at. Before she had the time to pick herself up, Loli sonido-ed over to her and, picking her up, threw her against the far wall of her room, right beneath the solitary window.

Orihime groaned as she slumped across the floor. Her hand touched her right cheek gingerly. It stung and was probably bruised, but there wasn't any blood. Looking up, she noticed Loli heading towards her.

"I don't understand why Aizen-sama's so interested in you!" Loli yelled, and grabbed her by the hair. "You're just a stupid human. What could you possibly have to offer?"

Orihime grasped at the Arrancar's hands, hoping to pry them away, but it was no use. Her eyes watered in pain and frustration, but she refused to let them fall. Somehow, she knew it would only give Loli more pleasure to see her cry.

"And it's not just him either," Loli said, tossing Orihime to the other side of the room, as if she were nothing more than a rag doll. "You've even managed to charm the emotionless Cuarta Espada of all people! And, of course, let's not forget the infamous Octava Espada."

"What?" Orihime said, her head snapping in Loli's direction.

"Please! You can't tell me you don't know," Loli said, with a scoff. She picked Orihime up by her uniform and pushed her against the wall. Then, leaning close to her ear, she whispered, "Everyone knows you're his little whore."

Orihime's eyes narrowed. She'd never consider herself a violent person by any stretch of the imagination. But at the moment, she couldn't help the shaking of her limbs as rage coursed through her. "What did you say?"

"Loli, we should leave," Menoli said frantically. "You're being too loud, and if anyone finds out about this—"

Before she could finish, the door slammed open. The three women turned around, varying expressions of shock, confusion and, in Orihime's case, relief on their faces. Just from the silhouette on the floor, she could tell who it was. She'd never been more thankful in all her life.

"U-Ulquiorra-sama," Menoli said quickly, her eyes widening as his gaze shifted to her. She gulped when she saw the hardness in his eyes and took a couple of steps back.

Turning to Loli, who had released the grip on Orihime's uniform, he looked between the two of them before asking, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Ulquiorra-sama," Loli said. She bowed deeply. "We were just keeping our guest compa—"

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

Orihime looked between the female Arrancar and Ulquiorra, her eyes wide. She'd never seen him look so visibly upset or offended, let alone both.

A bead of sweat roll down Loli's face, and she gulped. After a moment, she said, "No, of course not, but—"

Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "But what? Do not think I don't know what you have been doing here. Let me assure you, Aizen-sama will not forgive you." He raised his hand, his finger pointed directly at Loli, the beginnings of a green cero forming on his fingertip. "And neither will I."

But the cero didn't hit its intended target. At the last second, Menoli had sonido-ed to the other end of the room and, covering Loli's body with hers, took the brunt of the attack. Once the light of the cero disappeared, Orihime could see was Loli thrown to the right side of her room, her leg twisted in an unnatural position. All that was left of the other Arrancar was her lower half.

"Me-Menoli," Loli said, her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, so you're still alive," Ulquiorra said. His heels clicked as he took slow, measured steps towards her. He looked at her leg. "It seems you didn't escape unscathed. But is that really enough retribution for your actions?"

Again, he pointed his finger at her, preparing to fire off another cero. Loli glanced at the wall behind her and squeezed her eyes shut. There would be nothing to stop his cero this time.

"Ulquiorra, please!" Orihime called as she ran to him, grabbing his arm. He stopped. "She's been punished more than enough, right?"

He looked at her, with an almost curious expression. A minute later, he released a short sigh and put his hand in his pocket. He moved away from Loli. "You have more luck than you deserve, it seems."

Loli huffed, still sitting on the floor. With the way her ankle was broken, she couldn't get up without help—help that Ulquiorra would in no way offer. "Aizen-sama will be hearing about this!"

"Let's hope he does," Ulquiorra said. His eyes widened slightly as Orihime kneeled down next to the Arrancar, her shield already activated. "Inoue, what do you think you're doing?"

"Get away from me!" Loli shouted, and tried pushing herself flush against the wall.

Orihime said nothing, her hands held out in front of her, over the broken leg. It only took a couple of minutes, but the bone was soon healed. Without a word, she stood and walked to the corpse that was once Menoli.

Loli watched her. Her body started trembling as bits and pieces of her friend appeared out of no where, coming together with the lower half of her body.

A sharp gasp was heard from the revived Arrancar; her eyes shot open. Menoli got up quickly and looked around. "What happened?" she asked, staring at the palm of her hand, confused. She turned to Orihime. "What did you do?"

"What the hell are you?" Loli demanded, glaring at Orihime. Her body shook as she struggled to walk to Menoli. She leaned on the other Arrancar as she continued, "It's as if—It's as if you're a monster!!!"

Orihime's eyes widened, watching as they left the room. She hadn't expected them to thank her for healing them, but she also hadn't expected a comment like that.

A...monster...?

"You should heal yourself," Ulquiorra said, startling her. He was next to her now, instead of three or four paces away.

She nodded, then winced at the stinging of her cheek. She called forth Ayame and Shun'ou, and relaxed in the warmth her shield provided.

"I'll make sure your room is cleaned up immediately," he said, heading to the door.

"Um, Ulquiorra?" Orihime asked. He turned around. "Thank you for helping me."

He regarded her for a moment before closing his eyes and turning away. As he walked out, he said, "If you were truly thankful, you wouldn't have healed them."

* * *

The day after the Loli-Menoli incident Ulquiorra had another mission. Orihime was somewhat surprised he hadn't told the day before. He had, after all, been in her room. But she got the feeling he was upset with her. She sighed, playing with a stand of hair. She had to admit, she could see where he was coming from. He probably thought she was too nice for her own good.

Sometimes, she wondered if he was right.

The creaking of the door caused her head to snap in that direction. The light poured into the room. And on the floor, there was an all-too-familiar silhouette.

"Hello, Orihime."

Usually when she saw Szayel, she would feel excited—almost bouncy. She was only too happy to leave her room and visit the garden he'd created for her, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. But this time, there was an uncomfortable awkwardness between them that even she could feel.

She cleared her throat. "Hi, Szayel." She paused, blushing as she remembered what had happened only days ago. Finally, she forced out, "We should get going, huh?"

He nodded. She made her way to him, though she didn't stand nearly as close as before. The trek to his lab was relatively silent, so much so that she felt like she would go insane. Every once-in-a-while she would look at Szayel, her mouth open as she prepared herself to talk to him about something. Anything. But each time she did, she would lose her nerve, close her mouth, and continue walking.

After what seemed like an eternity, they reached his labs and started heading to the very back room. She looked at his profile. She should just say something, ask how he's been. That was all—anything to break the silence.

"Orhime-chan!" said a robotic voice, happily.

She nearly jumped at the sound, grabbing onto Szayel's sleeve. Orihime stared at it, her face a dark shade of red, then looked up to see Szayel staring at her, the slightest hint of pink coloring his cheeks. She immediately let go and walked over to TREA.

"I'm sorry," TREA said, sounding guilty. "Did I scare you that much?"

"No, no, that's not it, TREA," she said. "It's been a while since I've seen you. How have you been?"

"I've been more than entertained, thanks to Szayel-sama and that Emo clown."

She blinked. "Emo...clown?"

"I think his name is Ulquiorra or something like that."

"Yes, that's his name," she said, laughing slightly. "No more death threats, I hope?"

"Everyday! But I've gotten used to them, so no need to worry about me." TREA chuckled. "And what about you? Anything interesting happen in your life recent—"

"TREA," Szayel said dangerously. Then turning to her, he said, "Come, there's something I would like to show you."

"Wait!" TREA called out, just as Orihime was heading back Szayel. She stopped and looked back at the white cube. "Before you go, would it be too much to ask for a kiss?"

She saw Szayel shoot the machine a deadly look. She giggled softly, covering her mouth with her hand.

"It's not too much at all." With closed eyes, she placed a small peck on the very top of its cool surface. When she was done, she smiled and placed her hand on top of the cube reassuringly.

"You're too kind!" TREA said. Continuing, its tone became more serious, "I just wanted you to know that. From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank you, Orihime-chan, for everything you've done for me and Szayel-sama."

She blinked once, then tilted her head, confused. "Huh? Why would you have to thank me? I haven't really done anything since I've arrived here."

"That's not true. You were you—and that's more than we could ever hope for."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed at the cube's comment.

TREA didn't answer.

* * *

Orihime stood next to Szayel, his hand on the wall in front of them. A moment later, it slide to the left, revealing a faintly lit staircase. Facing her, he nodded and started heading down the flight of stairs. She followed close behind him.

"Orihime," he said. His voice echoed eerily in their confined space. "Do you know why we forget?"

"Not really, no," she said. "Why?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he waited until they were at the bottom of the staircase before he looked at her, an odd look on his face. "Have you heard of the phrase 'use it or lose it'?"

"Once or twice, I think," she said, squinting as she tried to see her surroundings. With the amount of light in the place, all she could see was the faint outline of a large object in the very center of the room. "Why?"

Szayel started walking towards it, and she ran after him, watching him curiously as they walked in step. "There are billions of neural pathways inside your brain, each one important in its own way. There are paths for how to tie your shoes, for what your favorite color is, and—well, I think you get the picture. The problem is, the brain can only contain so many neural pathways at one time. Because of this, it becomes necessary for the paths that are not being used anymore to, as they say in scientific terms, be pruned."

"Pruned?" she repeated. "You mean like you'd prune a bush or something?"

"A similar principle, yes. The less useful paths are cleared to make way for new, more useful information. This cycle of destroying and creating new pathways continues for the rest of your life," he finished, and then stopped.

She nodded. "Oh! So that's what they mean by 'use it or lose it'! If you don't use those paths, then they are lost and you forget that information."

"Precisely," he said, facing her. The smirk on his face gave her a sinking feeling in her stomach. "But what if there was a way to target certain neural pathways in the brain? For example, if you could prune the pathway dealing with your dislike of a certain type of food, making way for new ones. Then you would forget you ever disliked that particular type of food."

"T-That's kind of a scary thought," she said, biting her lip. "But then, it's not like it's possible."

Szayel's smirk grew wider, his hand reaching out in the darkness. With the flick of his finger, a light from overhead turned on. She blinked a couple of times, blinded by the sudden change in lighting.

"I wouldn't be too certain of that, Orihime."

She let out an audible gasp as she stared at the strange contraption before her. In the very center was a chair with leg and arm restraints, a small helmet-like device connected to the back. Directly behind it, the chair itself was hooked up to a large white machine with flashing red and green lights and hundreds of buttons. And in the very middle of it was a large switch that, at the moment, seemed to be turned off.

What...was that thing?

Before she could ask, Szayel grabbed her by the forearms and forced her into the chair. Orihime struggled against his grip, more confused than anything else. She shuddered as she heard—and felt—the snapping of the restraints rubbing uncomfortably against her skin. Last, he placed the odd helmet on her head and nearly ran to the machine behind her.

"Szayel!" she cried, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him. "What are you doing?" He said nothing, so she tried again. "What are you—"

"It's better if it never happened," he said curtly. He didn't bother sparing her a glance.

She frowned, and then blushed. "It? You mean—"

"Don't!" He stopped what he was doing. He turned to her. "Don't say it! Soon, it will be like it never happened—none of it..."

Szayel punched a couple of buttons. The lights changed from red to green or green to red. Then the machine started humming loudly. Orihime shuddered even more. It didn't help, of course, that she knew all too well what he was going to do.

He was going to erase her memories. And probably not just of the kiss. All of it. Every memory she'd made with him. He was going to get rid of it.

"Why?" she asked softly, her gaze on her lap. "Why do you want me to forget you? I don't understand." She turned to him, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. "Please, make me understand! Why are you doing this?"

Szayel's hand rested on the switch in the very center, ready to bring it down. He stared at her blankly. Her heart sank. Sighing heavily, Orihime looked back down at her lap and closed her eyes, waiting for—well, she wasn't sure what to expect, but she got the feeling it would be very painful.

A moment passed. And then another. After a minute, Orihime's eyes slowly opened, and she looked over to the Octava Espada, even more confused than she'd been moments before. He hadn't moved from his spot. His hand still rested on the switch, only now his arm trembled. The once blank look on his face was replaced with frustration and, if she was seeing things correctly, pure and utter bewilderment.

He muttered something under his breath, too low for her to hear, as he removed his hand from the switch, placing it harmlessly at his side.

She frowned as she stared at him, his bangs covering his eyes. "Szayel..."

Suddenly, he was in front of her. His hands gripped her wrists painfully. He leaned over her, an almost wild look to his face. She hated to admit it, but seeing him like that scared her. Every time she'd ever seen Szayel, he was always calm and composed.

"You stupid girl!" he screamed, his face inches from hers.

Orihime flinched at his words, but said nothing. While she wanted to look away from his piercing gaze, she didn't. She wanted to show him she was serious about what she'd said. The action seemed to make him even more livid.

"Why, you say? Why? Don't you understand?" he demanded. "It's because I'm a monster!" He panted, his breaths coming out erratically. Finally, the grip on her wrists loosened as he lowered his head. A curtain of pink hair covered his face.

"I'm a monster," he said, this time more softly.

She stared at the top of head. His body shook slightly, though from what she could only guess. Still, it hurt to see him this upset and, even worse, this conflicted. She tried wrapping her arms around him, to bring him closer, to comfort him. But she found she was unable to do so. Her arms were still restrained to the chair.

So she leaned over and rested her head on top of his, her eyes closed. He sighed heavily at the contact, his hands moving from her wrists to wrap his arms around her waist.

_It's as if you're a monster!!!_

Orihime blinked back her tears as the words came to the forefront of her mind.

A monster, huh?


	15. Make Your Own Fate

For the first time since becoming Orihime's secondary guard, Szayel was relieved Ulquiorra had no missions to go on. He needed some time away from her, to gather his disjointed thoughts and hopefully make some sense of things.

Why couldn't he bring himself to erase her memories of him? Before he'd brought her to his domain, he was certain that was what he wanted. Even when she was in his lab strapped to the chair, his hand on the switch, he had no doubts. Only when Orihime looked at him, pure desperation and confusion written on her face, did he find himself hesitating a bit.

Then she closed her eyes, suddenly at peace with what he was going to do to her. That one act sealed the deal for him; he couldn't do it. Even though he knew it would be better for them to forget what they had with each other, he just couldn't bring himself to do it, no matter how hard he tried.

Speaking of which, what did they have with each other—what was their relationship? Was it guard and prisoner? Friendship? Something more? Or was it some strange combination of all three, changing at any given time and situation? Szayel's head hurt thinking about it.

He was striding around his main laboratory, moving from experiment to experiment, but nothing could keep him attention. The restless feeling inside reminded him of the time after he'd first watched Orihime.

What was it about her that made him feel this way?

"You couldn't do it, could you, Szayel-sama?" TREA asked, from its pedestal a few feet away.

Szayel turned to the cube, his eyebrow twitching. "Do what?"

"You couldn't erase her memories like you wanted to," TREA said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Szayel looked at the machine, surprised. "What? You didn't think I knew what you were trying to do?"

"If that's the case, then why did you ask...Orihime"—he forced the name out, a pained look on his face—"to give you a kiss? And what about everything you told her? 'From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank you, Orihime-chan, for everything you've done for me and Szayel-sama.' Don't tell you don't remember saying that."

"Of course I do."

"Then...?"

"I was ninety-five percent confident you wouldn't go through with it. But that still left a five percent chance that you would," TREA said. "And as I've learned from you, five percent can huge depending on the situation."

Szayel had to admit, the machine's answer surprised him. He thought that once TREA stopped talking, it turned off. Apparently, this wasn't the case.

"I see."

"What I don't understand," the cube said, "is why you wanted to erase her memories in the first place. It's obvious that you have feelings for Orihime-chan! Heck, I think you might even love—"

"I don't love her," Szayel ground out, and took a few steps closer to the machine. "It's an experiment, nothing more."

TREA sighed. "What is it with you Arrancar and denial? I don't get it. Considering the way you've been acting recently, I would say it stopped being an 'experiment' a long time ago. That's what scares you, isn't it? The only roles you know are that of scientist and Octava Espada in Aizen's army; now that something new is presented to you, you're terrified!"

"Don't speak to me as though you understand how the world works!" Szayel said, his teeth gritted together. He would never admit it, but the words had hit closer to home than he'd expected. "It's not as simple as you make it sound."

"Or maybe you're just making things harder than they need to be. It's not that hard to love someone, Szayel-sama," TREA said confidently. "I think you've already got that part down. It's just accepting that you love them that's the hard part."

"Love?" Szayel repeated. He shook his head, sighing. "The way you speak of it, you'd think you'd experienced it first hand. But what would you know about love, TREA? You're nothing more than a machine."

The cube didn't say anything for a long time. Szayel thought it had turned itself off, or maybe decided to drop the issue altogether. But then TREA started again, an almost hurt tone to its voice.

"Yes, that's right. I'm nothing more than a machine—screws, bolts, and scraps of metal. But isn't it sad, Szayel-sama, that I—a machine lacking both a heart and a soul—understand the inner workings of a simple thing called 'love,' but you don't?" It scoffed. "And you call yourself a 'genius.'"

The words resonated in the Octava Espada, cutting deeper than any insult, slander, or curse he'd ever endured in his entire existence. And they came from a machine, no less! Somehow that fact made him feel even worse.

He leaned against one of the tables and sighed, his head resting against his palm. What had he gotten himself into?

And perhaps most important of all: did he really want to get himself out of it?

"Szayel Aporro-sama?" Verona asked from the doorframe. He remembered the last time he'd interrupted his master. He wasn't in the mood to be kicked down the hall again. "Am I interrupting anything important?"

"No." Szayel was only too happy for the distraction, even if it did come from one of his fraccion. "What is it?"

"Aizen-sama has called an Espada meeting, starting immediately," Lumina added, pushing Verona off to the side.

"Didn't we just have one?" he asked, uninterested.

Lumina nodded. "Yes, but Aizen-sama said this was urgent. Apparently a group has invaded Hueco Mundo, and they're making their way here as we speak."

Finally, a real distraction to take his mind off things. He forced a smirk onto his face.

"Out of the way," he said, pushing them away from the door. "It would seem I have a meeting to attend."

* * *

Orihime found herself restless, unable to sit down for any given period of time. She was reminded of when she was first brought to Las Noches—however long ago that'd been—when she would spend most of her days looking out the window or pacing the room.

Her mind felt like it was going a million miles a minute, and it was all because of him. She just couldn't understand what he was trying to do. First he was kissing her, with an intensity she never would've expected from him, then he was trying to make her forget all about him.

Was he trying to drive her to madness? Because if that were the case, he was certainly doing a good job.

There was no use in trying to delude herself; she realized not long ago that she had feelings for the Octava Espada, ones that matched the feelings she had for Ichigo. And perhaps it was even more than those feelings, just in a different way.

When she was with Ichigo, she always felt a bit reserved, not wanting to show her true self in front of him. But she never had to worry about that with Szayel. He seemed more interested in her when she was being herself than when she wasn't.

It was a nice feeling, having someone appreciate you for who you really were.

Orihime sighed heavily, then walked to the couch, plopping down on it. She lay down, an arm over her eyes, waiting for Ulquiorra to return. He left because there was an Espada meeting called—at least, that's what the lower-level Arrancar who'd knocked on her door told them.

The door creaked open, and a figure entered the room.

"What was the meeting about, Ulquio—"

"I'm afraid I'm not Ulquiorra."

She removed the arm and sat straight up. Pushing herself off the couch, she took a few steps towards the door. Her heart beat rapidly in her ears. "Szayel..."

The Octava Espada nodded. "It's been a while, Orihi—"

Before he could finish his sentence, a loud smack filled the room. Szayel felt her hand across his cheek, the force behind it causing his head to snap to the side. He stayed that way for a moment, disbelief coursing through his veins.

She...had actually slapped him.

Orihime brought her hand to her chest, her palm stinging. She breathed heavily. The beginnings of tears formed in her eyes, but she knew it wasn't from the pain. What had gotten into her?

"You deserved that," she said, though whether to convince herself or him, neither were sure.

He looked at her, his lips pressed together. "You're still upset about before, aren't you?"

"You sound surprised," she said in disbelief. She shook her head, her body suddenly worn and listless. "Why are you here, Szayel? What do you want with me?"

"I don't know."

"Do you like me?"

"I don't know."

"Do you hate me?"

"I don't—"

"Or am I just some experiment to you?" Szayel's eyes widened at her question. Orihime took a step towards him and looked up, her eyes shining. "Ulquiorra told me about the clipboard he found in your lab. I sort of suspected it myself, but...after a while, my doubts started to disappear. There were so many things you did for me that didn't make sense, if you all you wanted was a guinea pig." She paused. "So, which is it?"

"I don't know," he repeated. He placed his fingers to his temples, hoping to quell the headache that was forming. "It's not simple. It's not as if I wanted to have these feelings for you. But..."

He did. No matter what this strange relationship had turned into, deep down he knew he cared for her, even though he had no right to.

Silence filled the room.

"You think you're the only one who feels that way?" she asked softly. "Do you really think I wanted to have these feelings for you?" She bit her lip, to keep her tears from falling. "I didn't. But it doesn't change the fact that I do."

"Then you should understand why I tried to erase your memories," Szayel said. "Our paths have already been determined for us—we're meant to be enemies, nothing more."

"That's not true," she insisted, touching his shoulder.

He looked at her wearily. "We're both tools, just waiting to be used for some grander purpose; we allow our actions to be driven for the sake of others. You and your friends were meant to destroy us, and we Arrancar, in turn, were created to be used by Aizen-sama to destroy you. No matter how much you hate it, there's nothing you can do to change our fates."

"You're wrong," she said, a hand to her chest. "I think you want to believe that fate isn't set in stone, that we can change it. That's why you spoke so passionately about the butterfly effect!"

He took her hand off his shoulder and placed it at her side, then headed for the door. It seemed she could not be reasoned with.

"That's just wishful thinking, Orihime," he said. "Things like that never happen in real life."

Orihime sighed, watching as he walked away from her.

"_I was just thinking, if Aizen-sama had never assigned Ulquiorra to that mission, we would've never met."_ That's what he had said, right before...

"You've shown so many times that you don't have to follow the path set out for you. You can make your own," she said, as his hand touched the doorknob. He stopped. "Don't you remember when you took me outside Las Noches? When you created the garden for me? When you let me play out in the rain? I know it wasn't because of Aizen...san's will that you did those things. You did them because you wanted to."

His fingers twitched as he held them over the knob. She was right. Aizen wasn't the one who'd ordered him to do those things—and it certainly wasn't part of his duties as an Espada, either.

His frown deepened. "That's correct."

"Szayel—"

"I came here to tell you," he said, cutting her off, "that those friends of yours have invaded Hueco Mundo. That's what the Espada meeting was about. I'm sure Ulquiorra will have more to tell you once he comes back." He half-turned to Orihime, looking at her out the corner of his eye. "You should be happy. They've come to rescue you."

Before she could call out to him again, he opened the door and left. Orihime stared at the door for a few moments, her thoughts even more turbulent with the news he'd given her. A second later Ulquiorra entered, his face as blank as ever.

"What is it, Inoue?" he asked, noticing the troubled look on her face.

Orihime shook her head, her eyes closed. "It's nothing, Ulquiorra. So, how did the meeting go?"

* * *

Szayel couldn't believe it. How had that idiot Shinigami and the Quincy gotten the better of him? His whole body was wracked with pain from the attack, the top part of his uniform burnt off while the lower half was more than slightly singed.

Why did this seem so familiar to him? Ah, of course. He'd been in a similar position with the Cuarta Espada. But at least that time he was being beaten by someone who even he could admit deserved some level of respect—not like these lowlifes.

It was insulting.

"Honestly, I'm stunned," said the Quincy, staring at him. "To think that you could take that and still be standing is..."

Szayel scoffed. "Of course I can," he said, struggling with the words. "I thought I told—I've analyzed all of your reiatsu. Even with techniques I've never seen, the reiatsu is still yours. By diffusing the impact, I can...I can at least reduce the damage, you idiots!"

He grabbed Lumina, who happened to be nearby, and consumed him, leaving nothing more than half a body. He could hear Verona call out, horrified that his companion/rival had been eaten, but Szayel ignored it. He could feel his body heal itself, his skin form over his cuts and burns.

The sensation wasn't nearly as pleasant as being healed by Orihime's shield.

He looked back to his opponents, amused. There was a look of disgust mixed with horror etched into their faces.

"You're a damn monster!" the Quincy shot at him.

"_Don't you understand? It's because I'm a monster!"_

He smirked wryly. "I prefer to be called a genius."

Turning on his heel, Szayel's smile melted as he remembered the words TREA'd told him earlier.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The Octava Espada didn't bother turning around. "Where am I going? To change my clothes, of course. If I'm preoccupied with my shabby appearance, I can't fight very well, can I?"

"Oh, give me a—"

"You should consider yourself lucky, Quincy. While I'm changing you can take the time to plan out your next attack," he said, and pointed at them. He grinned. "Not that it matters. When I get back, I'll be sure to butcher both of you."

Szayel could feel their gazes on his back, confused at his actions. Knowing they would be still there, trapped in the labyrinth that was his domain, he headed for his private chambers, passing TREA on his way. The cube remained silent.

He went over to the closet and pulled out random articles of clothing—a cape, the gloves he'd made specifically to break through Nnoitra's reitasu, and an extra set of his uniform. He didn't really care how they looked together, so long as they covered him.

Once he was finished, he walked out of the room and down the hall, ready to resume to the fight. Vaguely, he wonder how the other Espada were doing with the rest of the invaders. He knew Aaronniero had been defeated, but he doubted anyone cared. The Gillian was expendable.

Just like the rest of them.

"_You've shown so many times that you don't have to follow the path set out for can make your own."_

Szayel stopped in his tracks, her words echoing inside his mind. Was this really what he wanted?

He stood there for a couple of minutes, lost in his thoughts. Finally, he sighed and started walking again. This time, his stride was certain.

He'd made his decision.


	16. To Four, Six, Eight

Why did the doorknob have to disappear once an Arrancar had left the room? Ever since Orihime'd been brought to Las Noches, she'd wondered this in the back of her mind. But she never bothered asking Ulquiorra or Szayel, mostly because she already knew the answer—to keep the "pet" in its cage.

Still, that didn't make her current situation any less frustrating. She could feel her friends' reiatsu decrease at an alarming rate. For a brief moment, Orihime thought the worst, that Sado and Rukia had been taken out by the Espada, and pounded on the doors, hoping that someone, anyone, would hear her. No one came, but thankfully her assumption was proven wrong once she felt the faintest hint of their reiatsu pierce through.

But what about the others? She could sense Ichigo, apparently no worse for the wear, but judging from their reiatsu, Ishida and Renji—he'd come to save her, too?—didn't seem to be faring as well.

Orihime glared at the door again, the obstacle keeping her from her goal: to help her friends. Pounding on it didn't help, and neither would crying about it. She touched her clips, ready to call forth Tsubaki. She wasn't one to use extreme force, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Before she could finish Tsubaki's name, the doorknob appeared. She stared at it, wide-eyed. The presence behind the door was so familiar—she'd felt it so many times—and yet it never had quite this effect on her. She watched the knob turned and the door open.

Her hand dropped to her side as she stepped forward. She had so much she wanted to ask, but only one word managed to make it past her lips. "Why?"

A small smirk stretched across Szayel's face. "I've decided to make my own fate."

He considered her carefully, wondering what her reaction would be. Would she run to him and throw her arms around his neck, softly thanking him for making the right decision? Would she walk over and squeeze his hand? Or would she slap him again, for being a fool and taking too long to make his decision?

When she finally acknowledged him, he found himself surprised at the restrained nature of her reaction. It was nothing more than a slight nod of her head and a gentle smile. And yet, in that single gesture, she'd spoken volumes.

"I see," Orihime said, then looked up at him. "Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?"

"I haven't quite figured that out yet," Szayel said sheepishly. "I prefer being several steps ahead, but since I met you—Well, let's just say I'm not as prepared as I'd prefer. I think the most important thing right now is to get out of here. It won't be long until Aizen-sama—" He stopped. The realization that he'd renounced what little loyalty he had for the Shinigami ex-captain hit him with full force. "It won't take long for Aizen to realize that one of his Espada has gone rogue."

"All right. But there's something I have to do before we leave Hueco Mundo."

"If your faith in your friends is anything to go by, they'll be fine."

"I know."

"What is it, then?"

"When I was first brought to Las Noches, Aizen showed me the hougyoku, in a pillar next to his throne," she said, trying to remember the location of the room Ulquiorra had brought her. "After that day, I promised myself that I would destroy it. And I'm not leaving until I do so."

Szayel chuckled, earning him a glare. He held his hands up defensively. "I'm afraid you're going to have to break that promise—or at the very least bend it. Though I must say, I'm flattered my creation was able to fool you."

"What do you mean?" Orihime asked, her eyebrows furrowed. "Your creation?"

"It was a fake, made of the same crystalline material as the pink 'stones' in your necklace," he said. "Aizen has the real hougyoku with him at all times."

"I don't understand. What was the purpose of creating a fake one? And why show it to me?"

"It won't make a difference whether I tell you here or you while we run, will it?"

She shook her head. "It shouldn't."

"Good," he said, and lead her out of the room.

Once they were in the hallway, he reached over to her, placing his arm around her back for support, and slid his other arm beneath her legs, easily picking her up. A strangled gasp escaped her lips, her face tinted pink as Szayel started to sonido.

"I thought you would've gotten over your reservations regarding our proximity," he said, amused. "Considering the other things we've done..."

Her face turned red at his implication. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, about the fake hougyoku...?"

"It was to tempt you," he said effortlessly. "Much like the Christian god, placing the tree of the knowledge of good and evil within Eden to test his creations, Aizen had me create the fake hougyoku to test your loyalty to him. If you were truly loyal, you would not tamper with it. But if you weren't—"

"Then I would try to get rid of it," she finished for him. "But I still don't understand. Aizen isn't foolish. I'm sure he'd know that I hadn't come because I'd switched sides freely."

"Of course he knew. That was the beauty of it; it was a win-win situation for him, no matter what the outcome. If you were loyal to him, then he would indirectly gain those god-like powers of yours. And if you weren't loyal to him, just like Adam and Eve of Christian lore, you would be punished."

She tried to suppress a shudder. She didn't really want to know, but curiosity got the best of her. "Punished how?"

"If you tried to reject the fake hougyoku, your powers would be taken away and sealed into the orb. And since your powers stem from your soul, you most likely would have..."

The unspoken word hung in the air.

Szayel continued taking turn after turn, and eventually Orihime couldn't continue to watch where they were going. She closed her eyes and focused on her friends' reiatsu. She knew Rukia and Sado had been injured, but they seemed to be doing better. She wasn't sure what caused the change, but she was thankful. The others seemed to be doing well, too, except for—

"Kurosaki-kun," she said softly.

"It seems Ulquiorra is fighting one of your friends a little ways from here," Szayel said. "Much stronger than the ones I'd engaged."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "The ones you—who were they? Are they okay?"

"A Quincy and a red-haired Shinigami. They're fine, though probably feeling a bit like rats running through a maze," he said. "In a way, they should be thankful. It's highly unlikely they will run into another Espada in the labyrinth that is my domain."

"I see," she said, not sure how to take the news. She was glad her friends would be out of harms way, but she wasn't sure she approved of the method. "Szayel, where is Ulquiorra? Can you find him?"

"I can. But we don't really have the time—"

"Please, you have to take me there. I have to make sure he's okay."

"And which he would this be? Your friend or Ulquiorra?"

Orihime opened her mouth to answer, then stopped. The obvious response would be her friend; she knew without a doubt that it was Ichigo. She needed to know he was okay—and more importantly, alive. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn't want to see Ulquiorra hurt either. He was someone important to her, too.

"Both."

Szayel sighed and, turning on his heel, headed in the opposite direction. "I hope this is worth it."

* * *

As they approached, it was obvious to Szayel the fight was coming to a close. Orihime's friend—Kurosaki, was it?—could barely lift himself off the ground. He looked as if he'd received a direct hit from a cero, the left part of his uniform burned away. How he was still alive was anyone's guess.

Then again, Ulquiorra hadn't escaped without any damage. His usually pristine uniform was frayed at the edges and had been ripped open, exposing the black tattoo that marked him as the Cuarta Espada. His arm was poised, ready to punch a hole into the nearly defeated Shinigami. But before the deed could be finished, he stopped.

"Szayel," Ulquiorra said. His face was as emotionless as ever, but Szayel could hear the confusion in his voice. "What are you doing here...and with Inoue?"

"Inoue?" Ichigo asked, and looked back at her with wide eyes. His gaze flicked between her and Szayel. "What are you doing with that Arrancar?"

She knew the situation looked suspicious, with her quite literally in the arms of the enemy. She placed a hand on Szayel's shoulder, and understanding her silent request, he set her down. She nodded in thanks, then turned to Ulquiorra and Ichigo, both with suspicious looks etched onto their faces.

"Kurosaki-kun," she started, but after that she had no idea what else to say. That it wasn't as bad as it looked? That it was hard to explain, but that he'd have to trust her? That she'd fallen in love with one of their enemies, but it was okay because he wasn't as bad as he seemed?

Even she wouldn't accept any of those excuses. Why should he?

"I see you haven't changed, Ulquiorra," Szayel said. "I'm sure you're disappointed I stopped you from marking your prey."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ulquiorra said, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm sure you don't," Szayel said, with a slight laugh. "But enough with that. There are more pressing issues to deal with."

"Step away from Inoue!" Ichigo yelled at him, struggling to get to his feet.

How could this wisp of a boy have any strength left in him? Had it been any other time, Szayel would've been amused by his persistence. But at that moment, it only served to irritate him.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't have the time to let you play 'hero' right now," he said, in a bored tone. "Ulquiorra? If you wouldn't mind taking him out—not permanently would be preferable. I would do it myself, but I'm afraid our battling styles are rather incompatible."

"I'm not one of your fraccion," Ulquiorra said. "You can't order me around."

But before Szayel could respond, Ulquiorra had sonido-ed over to Ichigo, catching him off-guard, and hit him on the back of the head. The force threw the Shinigami across the room, where he landed face down. A small trickle of blood started trailing down his neck.

"Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime exclaimed. She was about to run over to him when Szayel held his arm out, stopping her.

"Except for a splitting headache, he should be fine when he regains consciousness." He lowered his hand, his attention back to the Cuarta Espada. "How interesting, Ulquiorra. What happened to 'I'm not one of your fraccion'?"

"I want answers," Ulquiorra said, "and having a conversation between four people slows that goal considerably."

Szayel smirked. "I shouldn't have expected anything less of you. The answer you desire is quite simple: I've decided I don't want to be a pawn anymore."

"You're no longer loyal to Aizen-sama."

"...I suppose I was never as loyal to him as you were, but yes, you're correct. Why, are you going to stop me?"

"What you do is your own affair. However," Ulquiorra said, his gaze shifting over to Orihime, "I cannot allow Inoue to leave."

"She doesn't belong here, Ulquiorra. Certainly you know that," Szayel said. "Probably knew it the instant you brought her. But your loyalty to Aizen runs deep—well, more accurately, ran deep. I'm afraid he's been usurped rather recently, hasn't he?"

The Cuarta Espada looked away. "If you don't want to be at the end of the receiving end of Aizen-sama's wrath, you'd better leave quickly."

"Why don't you come with us, Ulquiorra?" Orihime asked, and stepped towards him. She looked up at him sadly. "Please? I don't want you to suffer the same fate as the other Arrancar."

Ulquiorra glared at Szayel. "I've always despised your underhanded tactics."

"Unfortunately, I cannot take responsibility for this one," Szayel said. "Now, what we have to do is—"

"What the hell did you do to my prey?!"

Szayel brought his fingers to his temples. The phrase 'Murphy's Law' popped into his head, though he couldn't figure out why. "Grimmjow, you have such impeccable timing, as always," he said, through gritted teeth.

"Dammit, Szayel!" Grimmjow said, marching over to the Octava Espada. "How dare you try to steal someone else's prey?"

"Me? Why do you think I had anything to do with it? Ulquiorra was the one who knocked him out."

Ulquiorra scoffed slightly. "You were the one who told me to 'take him out.'"

Orihime had to admit, it was amusing to see three Espada bickering like a group of children, whose toy had been used without permission. But the fact that said 'toy' was Ichigo was slightly less humorous.

"Szayel," she said, earning his attention. She walked over and placed a hand on his arm. "If what you said about Aizen is true, maybe we should be leaving now."

"Yes, you're right," he said. "Ulquiorra, open up a Garganta. We need to leave."

Grimmjow looked between the three of them. "Where are you going?"

"The world of the living, naturally. We've decided to become something more than pawns in Aizen's little game with Soul Society. I could be a bishop, Ulquiorra a knight, and you, I believe, would do rather well as a rook. That is, if you wanted to," Szayel said, looking at the Sexta Espada out the corner of his eye. "I know your loyalty is about as strong as mine was—which is to say, not much."

"Why?" Grimmjow asked. "What's in it for you, me going rogue?"

"I can't be worried about a fellow Espada out of the goodness of my own heart?" Szayel said, grinning widely.

"Hell no. None of us are like that, least of all you."

Ulquiorra sighed heavily, the first Szayel had ever heard from him. "I can't create one. It would seem the portal between Hueco Mundo and the world of the living has been closed. No one can come in or out."

"I see," the Octava Espada said. "But I wouldn't be too certain about that last part."

"What are you talking about?" Grimmjow asked. "Didn't you hear what Ulquiorra just—"

"Of course I heard. But there's always another way," Szayel said, with a knowing smirk. "Sometimes you have to go sideways to go forward."

They stared at him blankly, waiting for him to continue with his explanation. He didn't.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Grimmjow demanded.

"Grimmjow, do you still have any caja negacion with you?" Before the other Espada could ask why, Szayel said, with hand outstretched, "If so, we're going to need it to get out of here."

Grimmjow looked at him suspiciously before stuffing his hand in his pocket. He pulled out a small cube and placed it in Szayel's palm. "How are you planning to do that? I thought you told us that it traps our fraccion in another dimension for all eternity."

"I'm surprised you still remember," Szayel said, examining the cube. "You're right. However, it's not very good at containing Arrancar at the Espada level. With the three of us—if you decide to come, that is—it shouldn't take us more than a few minutes to escape."

"That doesn't really explain how that will bring us back to the world of the living," Orihime added.

"Because, Orihime, it is a dimension that leads to nowhere and everywhere. The dimension itself exists nowhere, in-between worlds—worlds we may not even know about! But if you concentrate hard enough, it can lead you to anywhere you want."

"Even if you are correct," Ulquiorra said distrustfully, "how will this work? It's meant to be placed in the hollow hole of one Arrancar."

"I'm aware of that," Szayel said, while holding the cube between his thumb and index finger. "I believe I've come up with a solution to that conundrum. We simple have to hold onto the one whose hollow hole the caja negacion will be placed in. For example, if it were me, Orihime could onto my torso, and you and Grimmjow would take hold of my arms."

Ulquiorra grimaced at the thought.

"No way in hell would I ever—"

"Trust me, Grimmjow, I detest the situation," Szayel said. "I was going to have Ulquiorra be the one to suffer the negacion, but I sensed you would dislike the idea of having to hold onto his arm even more."

Grimmjow remained silent.

"So, are you coming with us? Or are you going to continue to play loyal to the false king that sits on the throne of Las Noches, who will replace you the moment you cease to serve any purpose?"

"...Let's just get one thing straight," Grimmjow said, towering over the pink-haired Arrancar. "The moment we get out of that negacion, I'm on my own. I don't know what it is you're planning, but count me out of it! You got that?"

Szayel bowed slightly. "Naturally." He looked to Orihime and held the cube out to her. "If you don't mind, I would prefer if you did the honors."

"Why me?" she asked, but she took the cube from his grasp anyway.

"Maybe that way it will hurt less," he said, in an almost joking tone.

She looked at him curiously, but didn't press him further.

It was a strange sight, to say the least. After Szayel had pulled up the left side of his hakama, revealing the small hole in the middle of his thigh, he signaled to the other Espada that he was ready. Ulquiorra held onto Szayel's left arm, and Grimmjow, somewhat reluctantly, held onto his right.

Orihime took a couple of steps towards him and wrapped her left arm around his waist, her right hand holding the cube a little above his hollow hole.

"Once you drop the caja negacion, make sure to hold on. Once we're inside the dimension, make sure your thoughts are on—Karakura Town, was it?"

"Yes."

"Most important of all: no matter what happens, do_ not_ let go. Understood?"

She glanced at him nervously. "I understand."

"Hurry up, woman!" Grimmjow said. "The less time I have to hold on to this freak, the better!"

With a shaky hand, she released the cube. Her surroundings became fragmented, like pieces of a broken mirror. It seemed Szayel's plan was working. Orihime could see the fragments surround not only them, but also Grimmjow and Ulquiorra. The whiteness of Las Noches was slowly taken over with black as the pieces of this new dimension started taking shape. Soon, only a small sliver of brightness shone through.

Then the world went black.


	17. In Another Time

We're so close to the end. Only two more chapters! Just a few reminders for the rest of this story:

Please remember that this breaks away from canon considerably. So Orihime and co. are not in the fake Karakura town. It's the real one. And Aizen's motivations are...well, as is touched upon earlier, to get Orihime's powers. We know that's not true now, but at the time this story was planned out, we had no idea what Aizen wanted with her.

That being said, I hope you enjoy this installment. Don't forget to review!

* * *

Orihime had always been afraid of the dark. When she was younger, the dark frightened her because of what might be lurking in it. But once she entered junior high, her fear shifted from what was in the dark to the dark itself. There was something about it, in the uncertainty it possessed, that terrified her as much, if not more, than the Arrancar she'd faced at Las Noches.

Which was why she despised the situation she and the three ex-Espada currently found themselves. She wished Szayel had warned her about what they'd have to deal with—at least she could've prepared herself. Of course, maybe he didn't know the conditions of this strange nowhere that was the caja negacion.

Though that was unlikely. Szayel knew more about this dimension than anymore, since he seemed to be the one to discover it. No doubt he figured she wouldn't be willing to go through with his plan if she had known what was in store for them.

He was probably right.

Though even she could've suffered with the darkness, if only she didn't also have to deal with the _something_ pressing down on her. She couldn't describe what it was, but the _something_ was tangible, a heavy weight on her chest that increased the longer she and the ex-Espada remained. Perhaps strangest of all, it was almost as if this unnamed _something_ was forcing her to remember things she didn't want to:

Her parents leaving her brother and her to fend for themselves. Her brother's death. The way Ichigo would look at Rukia, when he thought no one was watching.

And the whole of her relationship with Szayel.

Orihime tried forcing the memories from her mind. But the more she tried, the more they lingered. To torment her.

No wonder Szayel thought this would be the best place to punish fraccion. To relive the worst of one's memories for all eternity, surrounded in complete darkness? She could think of no worse torment.

Her grip on Szayel's waist tightened. Beneath her arms, she could feel his muscles, taunt, almost ready for battle—or trying to hold off the pain. Considering their situation, Orihime was willing to bet on the latter.

Was he suffering, too? She rubbed his back, in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

The action wasn't enough to comfort the former Octava Espada. As the one with the negacion cube inside him, he suffered the most from the dimension's effects. He felt as if he were being crushed. Time seemed nonexistent, and with each passing second—or was it millisecond?—he found himself wishing for death.

Szayel hadn't felt pain of this magnitude since before he was turned into an Arrancar. No, this was worse. Not only did he suffer with the regret of events long since passed, most of which he couldn't even remember, he also suffered with the what ifs:

What if, instead of going to Orihime, he decided to go back, to finish the fight between the Quincy and the red-haired Shinigami? Would he have won, or would he have died a fool's death? And if he died, would Orihime ever know what happened to him? Would she even care, considering the things that'd passed between them hours before?

Then further back.

What if he'd gone through with his plan to erase Orihime's memories? Would he have regretted it after the fact? Or would he have been pleased with himself for lifting an unnecessary weight off his mind?

And still further back.

What if he'd declined Ulquiorra's offer to be her guard? What if he'd said the Cuarta Espada should find someone else or, better yet, that Aizen should assign the mission to someone else?

What if he and Orihime had never met?

If. If. If. Szayel never realized how one simple word could cause so much pain.

For a brief moment, he wondered if perhaps even _this_ was too cruel a fate for disobedient fraccion.

But there was no time to linger on these musings, he had to remind himself. If they stayed there much longer, he, Orihime, and his fellow ex-Espada would continue to sink further into their own despair. And personally, Szayel didn't wish to stay in this hellhole of a dimension for all eternity.

With some effort, he called out, "Grimmjow, Ulquiorra!" Then he took a deep breath and looked down. "Orihime, are you all right?"

"I've been better," she said. "The pain...it's..."

"Damn you, Szayel!" said Grimmjow. "You couldn't have told us what—?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Szayel said. "Are you still with us there, Cuarta Espada? You can't nod in response this time. I won't be able to see it."

"Hmm."

"Good. Now all of you, like I said before we came here, we all need to focus on this Karakura—"

"That's a little hard to do when it feels like you're about to be ripped in half," Grimmjow ground out.

"I'm aware of that," Szayel said through gritted teeth. A part of him wanted to point out that at least Grimmjow didn't have to deal with the worst of the pain, but this was not the time to bicker. "But try anyway."

"Then what?" Orihime asked.

"If we do this right, if all of us are concentrating like we're supposed to"—Szayel turned to his right and shot Grimmjow a pointed look, even though he knew the other ex-Espada would be unable to see it—"then the darkness around us will start to fade away, and we'll be in Karakura."

"You'd better be right, Szayel," said Ulquiorra, the most he'd spoken since they'd left Hueco Mundo. "If not..."

Szayel knew it was an empty promise. He had no doubt Ulquiorra knew what would happen to them if they couldn't—

No, he couldn't think like that. They _would_ escape.

He kept thinking of this Karakura Town Orihime told him of, but he eventually found himself agreeing with Grimmjow—though for very different reasons. Concentrating on a place one had never been before, trying to keep it in one's mind, was easier said than done. Szayel could only hope Orihime's thoughts of the place would make up for the rest of them.

Much to his relief, it seemed to be working. The blackness melted away, albeit slowly, as Karakura started fading in. The sky was tinted pink and orange—how oddly appropriate—mixed with some red and even a bit of purple. All around them were buildings; some were tall, nearly touching the sky, while others were shorter and not nearly as modern.

He knew the transition between the two dimensions was complete once he could feel his body again, free of pain. But something felt off about this place. Szayel couldn't quite put his finger on why. Then he looked down.

"Oh—"

They all crashed to the ground in a tumble, limbs tangled with limbs. Orihime fared the best of the four, with most of her weight resting on Szayel. He, Ulquiorra, and Grimmjow weren't as lucky. While a little fall was nothing an Arrancar couldn't handle, the additional pain was not welcome, considering the circumstances.

"I'm sorry, Szayel," Orihime said, quickly unwrapping her arms from his torso. She scrambled to her feet. "Grimmjow, Ulquiorra...are you all right?"

Ulquiorra released Szayel's right arm. He was only too thankfully. "As you said earlier, I've been better."

"Better here than that damn dimension!" said Grimmjow, letting go of Szayel's arm quickly. "What the hell were you thinking, Szayel? Dragging us into a place like that..."

Szayel shook out his arms, to get the feeling back into them, then pushed himself off the ground. He looked at Ulquiorra, then Grimmjow. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"I guess it doesn't matter now," Orihime added, and looked around them. The street lamps turned on overhead, as the sun disappeared below the horizon. "We got here, and that's all that matters."

"Quite right you are, Inoue-san," said a voice directly behind them.

They turned, their eyes wide as they took in the man with hat and sandals. His grin widened as he looked over the ex-Espada.

"U-Urahara-san?"

* * *

"I'm so sorry," Orihime said, for what felt like the millionth time. "I-I didn't realize we were in front of your store. I wasn't even thinking of it at the time."

Urahara shook his head and placed a cup of tea in front of her and the three Arrancar. "Not at all, Inoue-san." A flicker of confusion flashed across his face at her words, particularly the last part of her statement, but he didn't ask for clarification. He opened his fan, hiding his smile. "Though I must say, I'm surprised at the 'guests' you've decided to bring with you."

"More tea," Grimmjow muttered distastefully, pushing the cup away.

Ulquiorra seemed to agree, but unlike Grimmjow, he took the smallest of sips. Urahara's eyes widened as he focused on the former Cuarta Espada.

"I remember you," he said, shutting his fan.

"And I remember you."

Orihime blinked, confused, as she looked between Ulquiorra and Urahara. "You know Urahara-san? How?"

"Oh, you don't know?" Urahara asked, though from his tone, she could tell he wasn't truly surprised. "Then again, I doubt they would've told you. Didn't you wonder why it took so long for your friends to come to Hueco Mundo?"

"I..." She hesitated a moment. Truth be told, at times she hadn't wanted them to come. She'd gone to Las Noches for their sakes, to save them from getting hurt. "I thought they were training. You know, preparing themselves for what was in store."

Urahara laughed, shaking his head. "In a sense you're right—though that wasn't because they wanted to. They would've gone earlier if the device I use to create a Garganta hadn't been destroyed the night before by certain...individuals sitting here before us."

"Ulquiorra?" Orihime said, her eyes wide. "You were—How—?"

Everyone looked at him expectantly. It seemed Szayel and Grimmjow, even as Espada, hadn't been privy to this information. Ulquiorra didn't answer immediately. He took another sip of tea, watching the leaves settle to the bottom, before he started his explanation.

"Inoue, you remember why Szayel became your secondary guard, right?"

She nodded. "Because Aizen had you out on missions more frequently." A proverbial lightbulb lit up in her head. "You mean to tell me, one of these missions was to—"

"That's correct. Stark, Halibel, Barragan, and myself were all sent to the real world, more specifically to this shop, to destroy this Garganta-creating device, and by doing so hopefully prevent your friends from entering Hueco Mundo."

"I don't understand how Sousuke could know about this place," Urahara said thoughtfully. "Or why he would care. I suppose the reason doesn't matter. I simply couldn't allow you to destroy the device I worked so hard—not without a fight."

"But it appears our efforts merely delayed their arrival, rather than halting it completely," Ulquiorra said. He didn't sound upset by this realization, like Orihime thought he would've, but rather resigned.

"Well, now that that explanation is out of the way," Urahara said, sensing a change in topic was in order, "perhaps we should become more...properly acquainted with each other, shall we? I'll even start first." He stood and bowed, his hand holding his hat in place. "I'm Urahara Kisuke, the humble owner of this shop. And you three are?"

The three ex-Espada looked Urahara over with critical eyes. Even if Orihime couldn't sense anything, all of them, particularly Ulquiorra and Szayel, had a feeling there was more to this man than simple "shopkeeper."

"Ulquiorra Schiffer, former Cuarta Espada in Aizen-sama's—Aizen's army."

Grimmjow pointed to himself and smirked. "Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, former Sexta Espada."

"And I am Szayel Aporro Granz, former Octava Espada...and scientist of Las Noches."

Urahara's eyebrow twitched. "Scientist, you say?"

"Yes, that's correct," Szayel said, and grinned. He was pleased to know his suspicions about this shopkeeper had been more or less confirmed. He could see it Urahara's eyes—the curiosity, the intrigue all screamed scientist. "I feel there's much we have to discuss...Urahara, was it?"

Urahara nodded slightly. "I agree." He turned to Ulquiorra, Orihime, and Grimmjow, the latter two with confused looks as they glanced between him and Szayel. "I hope you'll excuse us for a moment. We won't take long."

"Take all the time you need," Orihime said, as Szayel stood up beside her.

"Oh, and please don't think of leaving," Urahara said, the comment mostly directed at Grimmjow. "I still want to talk with all three of you."

"And if we try to?" Grimmjow demanded.

Urahara smiled. The sight unnerved Orihime more than she cared to admit. His smile carried a heavy threat behind it, though she wasn't sure what that threat was. Even Grimmjow seemed to back down, if only slightly.

"It's just better if you stay here," Urahara said after a beat.

Then he and Szayel left the room. They must've gone further into the shop, Orihime decided, since she couldn't hear any chatter between them.

Grimmjow grabbed the cup and started pouring the tea back into the kettle. "Who the hell is this guy? And where does he come off, trying to threaten us? Can't even do that properly..."

"Grimmjow," Orihime said, her eyebrows furrowed. "I don't think that's polite of you to—"

"Do you think I care?" he shouted, slamming the cup on the table. Orihime shook her head as she leaned away from him. "Damn it! I knew I was going to get trapped in whatever plot Szayel has. But did I listen to my instincts? No!"

Orihime looked to the shoji screen behind them. "I wonder what Szayel and Urahara-san are talking about. Whatever it is must be important."

"Who cares? Obviously it wasn't important enough for us to know about it." Grimmjow stood quickly, startling her in the process. "I need to get out of this room. It's starting to drive me crazy!"

"But you just got here," Orihime pointed out, as he made his way to the other shoji door, the one closest to the shop's entrance. "And Urahara said that you couldn't—"

Grimmjow apparently didn't care because he continued to the door. Orihime looked to Ulquiorra, half-expecting him to stop the former Sexta Espada, but there was nothing. Ulquiorra simply sat with his eyes closed, as if weary of all the foolishness going on around him.

The door slammed behind Grimmjow as he left. Orihime could still hear the stomping of his feet for a few moments, and then there was silence.

A silence that was slowly but surely becoming more uncomfortable as time passed.

"So," Orihime said awkwardly. Ulquiorra turned to her. "We...really haven't spoken all that much—well, not a real conversation since..."

"I had a month off from missions," he added, catching her off-guard. "When I brought you to meet the other Espada."

"Yes. That was so long ago," she said. "I'm surprised you remember. I thought you'd want to block it from your mind completely, considering all the silly questions I asked." She giggled. "Including the one about the makeup."

Ulquiorra shook his head. "I don't think I could ever forget that one."

"You really didn't have fun during that time, did you?"

He hesitated a moment before saying, "It was...an experience."

That was probably the closest to a "yes" as he would allow, so Orihime decided to take it as such. Her smile lessened as she thought back to the last few hours.

"Say, Ulquiorra?"

"Hm."

"What did Szayel mean when he said that your loyalties to Aizen had been usurped recently?" she asked, and his eyes widened slightly. "Who did they change to?"

Ulquiorra didn't say anything for a while. He looked at her, then back at the door Szayel and Urahara had gone through, before focusing on her again. "You honestly have no idea, do you?"

Orihime blinked.

"That would be a no," he said, with the softest of sighs. "Perhaps if I had gone about it the way Szayel had, you would understand."

Her hand shot to her mouth, in hopes of quelling her gasp. But it was still painfully loud to her ears. A bit of warmth rose to her cheeks.

Oh. So _that's_ what Szayel had meant.

"I...I had no idea..."

"That much is apparent," he said, without any bitterness to his voice. Then, as if sensing what she would say next, he added, "Apologies are not necessary. You've done nothing wrong."

"Ulquiorra..."

Orihime placed her hand over his. He glanced at her sadly. Not for the first time, she wondered how she could read any emotion from him. His face didn't look any different from before.

"I don't want your pity."

"It's not pity," she said. She smiled. "Do you remember when you asked me if I preferred Szayel as my guard over you?"

"You said you couldn't choose."

"Yes, because I like you for you and Szayel for Szayel. I can't compare those feelings. They're completely different." Her face turned a deep shade of red. "And no matter what, both you and Szayel hold a special place in my heart."

"Your...heart." His eyebrows furrowed as he let the words linger between them. If Orihime didn't know any better, she would've thought he was confused by her words. "Do you think—"

He stopped, as if unsure of himself.

"What is it, Ulquiorra?" she asked.

"If Szayel had never become your secondary guard, what do you think would've happened?"

She could hear his unspoken words, the ones he really wanted to ask but couldn't bring himself to utter:

_Do you think you could have ever had the same feelings for me that you have for Szayel?_

Orihime's eyes softened. "I do. In another time, in another place—maybe in one of those unknown worlds Szayel was talking about. Yes, I think it's definitely possible."


End file.
